Forgotten 1 Original Series (NaNoWriMo2017)
by TheCheshireCatt
Summary: There was once a girl as beautiful as a forest nymph... who had to make a terrible choice...
1. Prologue

_The night was almost over and yet still she felt the ache in her chest, the dried tear tracks that ran down her face, and the grass of the glade against her bare arms, the crescent moon casting a pale light over her almost iridescent white skin. She lay with her back on the soft green blades of grass, looking up into the clear sky, full of stars. It all looked so alive to her now. So, so alive now that he was dead. Wasn't that wrong? she thought. Wrong that she saw everything so vividly now that someone she had loved had passed into the great beyond. She felt like the world should be grey right now, not so bright and green and fresh._

 _A shadow fell over her, bringing her back to the pain, sudden and brutally real, and a voice spoke..._

 _"It is time, Leta," the tall mans voice was deep and heavily accented and sent a chill down her spine despite the warmth of the night and the oncoming dawn. Dew was settling over the clearing and it made the grass cool, cleansing almost. But she still felt empty._

 _"Time for what?" she asked blankly, gazing up at him. She wasn't interested in anything anymore. She didn't care what happened. She just wanted to lie there and forget the world. She wanted the world to turn grey, the colour it should be now that he was dead._

 _The mans eyes, black pits in the darkness, found hers, locking onto them. He smiled at her as he knelt down, one arm balanced on his knee. She could see his pearl white teeth glint. There was a gold ring on his finger, inlayed with a black stone. The mark of the wolf pack that called the village home. And as he smiled down at her, something broke through the haze-fear. Of him, of what he was about to tell her. Of something she couldn't explain. She knew she wasn't ready, but she knew she had no choice..._

 _"Time for you to become a full member of the pack. Come, you have a day to prepare for the ceremony."_

 _Fifteen words-Immeasurable, unbearable pain. Break every bone, every full moon, for the rest of your life._

 _She wasn't ready for that..._

 **This doesn't count in NaNoWriMo as I already wrote this ages ago. All other chapter will 1,667 words or more and will count.**

 **x**


	2. Chapter 1

_"Please, Father! I will get better!" the boy cried, cowering away from the man before him._

 _Mikael Mikaelson held a stick clutched tightly in one hand. He looked furious, his eyes gleaming black pits as he advanced. His dirty blond locks fell over his shoulders, his muscles showing prominently in his anger, veins standing out against his skin._

 _"You are a failure! You cannot hunt! You cannot fight! You can do nothing but help your mother prepare dinner! You do not deserve to have the name Mikaelson!"_

 _And he raised the stick, stepping forwards so his shadow fell over the small boy, only seven years old. He had sandy blond hair, his eyes a dark blue._

 _"Father!" he pleaded._

 _"No! You will be taught these things or I will throw you out into the forest!"_

 _Mikael brought the stick down with a sickening force. The crack was heard as an echo from down in the village, though no one really payed it any heed._

 _But the cry of pain Mikael heard wasn't that of his weak son. No, the cry he heard was that of the young girl who had put herself in the way and taken the blow. Her hair was long and blond, her eyes a blue-grey. Even then, at age six, you could see she was going to be beautiful when she grew up._

 _Mikael almost hit her again, but thought better of it, realising that if he did, there would be consequences. Instead, he let the stick slip from between his fingers and he sighed._

 _"Good morning, Leta," he said stiffly, speaking between his teeth._

 _"Leave Niklaus alone, Mikael. He has done nothing." She folded her arms and glowered at him._

 _Mikael only laughed. "Get out of my way, you foolish girl!" Mikael snarled, spit flying from his mouth._

 _Leta shook her head vehemently. "No. I will not let you harm him."_

 _"Leta Mitchell, stay out of things that do not concern you!" he shouted. Leta could see the anger, violent and deadly, bubbling, only just controlled, beneath the surface._

 _That was what set her resolve. "You shall not harm Niklaus as long as I am alive. If it is with my dying breath, I will defend him. I do not care if it is the last thing I do, even if I have to break my curse in doing so!"_

 _Mikael only shook his head and walked away..._

 **Several years later...**

The point of the knife etched the words into the bark of the tree trunk. Leta whispered them quietly as she wrote, gently keeping one hand around a moss covered branch to keep her steady in the tree.

"Niklaus get up here," she called when she had finished, looking down at the young man sitting on the bank of the river, his dirty blond hair hanging around his face as he bent over a small wooden chess piece he was carving. But at her call, he looked up with a smile playing upon his pink lips. His eyes were a deep, dark blue that contrasted with his pearl pale skin. He was handsome, his face long since lost any boyishness, though he retained a light hearted attitude that suited a boy better than someone of his age.

Niklaus didn't make a move to get up, and Leta started to think...

Laughter sounded from a little way-away before Niklaus could open his mouth, and from a knot of close trees appeared a pretty young girl with plaited fair hair and light blue eyes. She ran over to the trunk of the tree, grinning up at Leta with her perfect teeth. Her lips were full. She could only have been nineteen at the most and slim with a dusting of freckles across her nose.

"Have you finished, Leta?" she inquired, not climbing the tree, but staying on solid ground.

"Yes. Nik, are you coming up or not?" Leta asked, tucking the knife into its sheath and adjusting her position to a more comfortable one in the trees branches. She stretched her arms and swung her leather clad legs backward and forward a few time while awaiting his answer.

He didn't say anything however, didn't look at her. His shoulders tightened, hunching slightly. Leta knew those signs well and in moments she was dropping from the tree, landing perfectly on all fours beside him. He flinched away involuntarily, but Leta knelt facing him and took his face in her hands.

"What did he do to you, Niklaus?" she whispered, almost resignedly, forcing him to look her in the eye. "What did Mikael do?"

"He was in one of his rages. He decided to take it out on me..." He closed his eyes, a single tear sliding down his cheek. "I did not want to worry you."

She clenched her teeth in anger, bile rising in her throat at the image she had seen so many times. The thought of her best friend being beaten disgusted her, but nothing as close as the disgust she felt for the man who did it. She loathed Mikael Mikaelson with a vengeance you wouldn't expect of someone so beautiful and fair.

"Nik, how bad is it?" Rebekah said jerkily, pausing between each word. She was standing on his other side looking upset and worried. "And why wasn't I told? Better yet, why didn't I hear it?"

Suddenly the whole wood seemed darker, gloomier, and grimmer to them all. The sun seemed to have gone behind a cloud and the bird song, instead of being pretty, sounded harsh and crow-like to their ears.

"No worse than last time," Niklaus muttered, avoiding eye contact with them both.

Leta bit her lip, worried, angry, not just at Mikael, but at herself for not realising sooner. Niklaus had kept it hidden well, but now she could see the way he held himself, afraid to move too much.

"You should have told me," Leta said, sitting back on her heels, remembering only that morning how trivial things had seemed so important. How happy they had all been together.

Leta drew in a sharp breath and slammed her hand into the ground, hard enough to cause bruising, and hissed, "He made you keep it a secret, didn't he?" her eyes angry and her hands clenched.

She didn't need Nik's half nod to tell her yes, she knew it already.

"He said that if I told anyone he would do it again," he whispered, barely moving his lips. He was frightened. "He said that if you started another fight with him to defend me then..."

Rebekah and Leta both gasped and Rebekah clapped a hand to her mouth in horror. "He wouldn't."

"He would," Leta muttered, springing to her feet lightly.

"Please, Leta, do not challenge him again, it will not end well," Niklaus pleaded, grabbing her hand to stop her pacing up and down, fuming as she went.

Leta glanced at him. She sighed, reached up her free hand and pulled open the knot securing her long golden hair in a ponytail. It fell around her face and her grey-blue eyes shone slightly in the fading light of the wood.

"I will not, Niklaus," she told him kindly, a sad little smile playing on her perfect lips.

Leta Mitchell was twenty years of age, one of the most beautiful girls in the village. Her long blond hair reached down to her waist, shining in the setting sun like a wave of molten gold. Her skin was light, unmarred by blemishes or scars of any kind. She was willowy, her waist slender. If you looked closely at her hands, you could see the dirt that collected underneath her fingernails from being out in the forest, the chipped edges and the small marks that indicated she was never idle.

Amongst the villagers she had gained the title The Forest Nymph, on account of her hair and her astounding beauty and even her voice when she sang. Her figure also lent to this name, as did her smile, though her personality did not. Where the nymph was said to be hollow and uncaring, Leta was warm and cared very much about the people she loved, sometimes even to the point where she would actively put herself in harms way for them.

She had always been like that, and she hoped she always would be. She didn't want to end up like Mikael.

Leta had lived in the village since she was born, her mother and father both having been born there themselves.

A moment passed, then shouting was heard. Calling, really. It was Esther, wanting her children to come home.

"We should be getting back, it's almost dark," she smiled at them both, then turned and began to make her way through the trees. Niklaus and Rebekah followed at a slower pace, until Leta stopped and looked over her shoulder at them.

"Nik, meet me here tomorrow. I want to see how bad it really is."

Niklaus nodded, not meeting her eyes, and Leta smiled faintly. Rebekah gave her a small smile in return.

"See you on the morrow then, Nik, Bekah." Leta nodded once to each of them, then, before either could do more than react, she ran off into the forest, leaving them behind her.

Running was a part of who she was, it made her feel free, like she could do anything. Then again, holding a sword made her feel strong. A lot of things made her feel like she could do whatever she wanted, even though she knew she would never be able to do that.

Her hair whipped back from her face as she jumped over a fallen log and ran down the bank, using tree trunks to stop herself from tumbling to the ground.

But that all ended abruptly when she left the safety of the trees and came face to face with her very angry looking mother.

"Leta," Canna said coolly, folding her hands in front of her. "Where have you been?"

Leta folded her arms and sighed. "You're not judging me on what I'm wearing then?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Canna huffed and grabbed her by the wrist, shaking her head in exasperation. "Of course I am, but that won't stop you so I don't care."

 **And so my torture begins...**

 **Don't forget to comment and vote!**

 **x**


	3. Chapter 2

_"Come, Niklaus. Run with me."_

 _The smile upon her face was enchanting, creating dimples in her cheeks. Her teeth were perfect, her eyes beautiful. Her golden hair was cascading down her back in waves, catching the suns light._

 _Niklaus couldn't have been more than nine years old, and already he knew she was the most stunning creature in the universe. Although he loved her, he wasn't in love with her. He knew he never would be, but there was something about her personality that made him feel like he could do anything he wanted to. Even stand up to Mikael. She was his best friend._

 _Leta waved a hand in front of his face, chuckling merrily. "Niklaus? Come on. If we are too make it to the river before the days end then I suggest you start running."_

 _She took his hand in hers gently and smiled shyly, looking up from between her eyelashes. Her cheeks were rosy from being out in the fresh air all day, from climbing trees and running. She had sharpened sticks and made a small barrier to hide behind._

 _"All right," Niklaus said softly, sounding unsure of himself. It wasn't often he was sure of himself anymore. Mikael had seen to that a long time ago. Leta was the only one who brought him even a smidgen close to self-assurity._

 _"Okay," Leta laughed, beginning to pull him along with her._

 _Picking up the pace, she started to run, ducking underneath branches and leaping over the roots of trees. Her laughs were like music, her hand warm and soft, but firmly holding on to his. He wasn't sure how long they ran for, but in Niklaus's opinion it wasn't long enough. Then, abruptly, she came to a full and sudden stop, skidding along the ground for a good few feet before she managed to catch her balance. Niklaus gripped her arm tightly, earning himself a stern look, but also a muttered thanks._

 _Before them lay a cliff, the drop steep, but not unclimbable. Across the cliff, which must have been a good five yards to the other side, was a clearing. It was easily visible from where they were standing, like a golden brown patch amongst all the leafy green. Niklaus was so stunned by what he saw that he forgot about the river._

 _Leta stepped forwards, basking in the setting sun that signalled the day was ending. And she pointed. "Do you see over there Niklaus?" she asked, squinting into the light. "That's where the men turn into wolves." She turned around suddenly and plopped herself down on the earthy woodland floor, laying back so she was gazing up at the canopy. Little rays of light shone through the green._

 _Niklaus sat beside her, crossing his legs and staring out at the clearing opposite them. "How did you find it? No one knows where they go to transform. Father says they are dangerous. That they are abominations."_

 _Leta snorted. "Not abominations, Nik. They are just people, like you and me. They protect the village, though there have been some who turned down darker paths, but they were quickly eradicated by the elders. I know a lot about the wolves." She propped herself up on her elbow and smiled quickly. "And as for how I found it..."_

Canna Mitchell had long, dark red hair, so unlike her daughter's. She was a tall and extremely thin woman with high and aristocratic features. Her eyes were dark where Leta's were light, and her clothes were always pitch black, clinging to her body despite what you might expect.

Canna was generally very lax in her rules. She had long ago stopped caring what Leta did, because it was just too much effort to try and stop her, and although she did not like the idea of her daughter fighting or being in any close proximity to Mikael Mikaelson, there wasn't much she could do about it. She would be able to rain hell upon his head if he ever harmed her beloved child.

But Leta could look after herself well enough anyway. She carried a dagger with her at all times and she had known how to use a sword since she was ten years of age, when Kol Mikaelson had taught her.

 _Leta cried out in frustration as the sword slipped sideways and forced her hands down with it. "I just can't do it!" she moaned to herself, sitting down in a distraught and disgruntled heap._

 _There was a snickering, and out from behind a tree, stepped a boy with dark brown hair and a roguish grin playing upon his lips. His eyes gleamed as he cocked his head to one side._

 _"Come now, I'm sure you can."_

 _Leta sighed, glaring at the ground, her fingers digging a steady hole. "I am not strong enough to even lift the sword, let alone wield it," she responded glumly._

 _Kol only smiled, holding out a hand to her and saying, "Don't be like that, Leta. Come, I'll teach you, darling."_

 _Leta took his hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, so they were looking directly into each others eyes. Leta stepped away first, picking up the sword and handing it to him. As she did so, she gave it a dirty look like it was Mikael Mikaelson himself._

 _Kol laughed at her expression. "Did the sword really do you that much of an injustice, darling?" he asked, chuckling behind his hand._

 _Leta rolled her eyes, shaking her head at Kol in exasperation. "It did," she answered primly, raising her eyebrows. "Now are you going to teach me how to use that... that thing or not?"_

 _Kol grinned at her. "Of course, love."_

 _"You are very cocky for someone a year younger than me, only nine," remarked Leta very matter-of-factly._

 _Kol only shrugged. "I make it a little habit of mine, darling," he smirked._

 _Leta groaned. "Oh lord would you just teach me how to use the damned sword already, Kol?"_

 _He smiled. "If you so wish, fairy."_

 _Leta gasped in fake indignation. "I am not a fairy, Kol Mikaelson!"_

 _"If you want to believe that."_

The dresses Leta had worn as a young girl now lay at the bottom of a trunk at the end of her bed, which was made of pine wood she had helped chop. They had been there for years now.

Canna remembered when Leta had first found a set of boys clothes, how she had paraded through the village in them and got horrified looks from nearly everyone. She had been seventeen years old then, her head held high in her pride.

 _It was a warm day in the village as Leta walked, smiling at everyone she saw. She couldn't have been more happy in her new clothes. But everyone else looked a little startled and worried, like she had lost her sanity overnight._

 _"You know people do not approve of you wearing mens clothing," Rebekah Mikaelson said, coming up and looping her arm through Leta's. She smiled brightly at Leta._

 _Leta rolled her eyes and shrugged. "It makes no difference to me what they think. If I wear a dress then I am designated to work in the kitchen and make dinner for my future husband. But if I wear mens clothing then I... give myself more of a reason not to do that."_

 _Rebekah laughed a little as they walked. "Of course, because that is going to get you out of a life as the housewife, Leta. I'm sure that will work. People might begin to think you were never a woman in the first place, but I am sure that will not be an issue."_

 _Leta shook her head at her friend and started walking towards the forest, their arms still linked._

 _"Wait, where are we going?" Rebekah asked._

 _Leta looked at Bekah, who was just a little shorter than her, with light blond hair and a willowy figure. If you looked at them from a distance you could have mistaken her for the sister Leta never had._

 _"We'll I was thinking of collecting some firewood like Mother asked me to, unless you have a better idea?"_

 _Rebekah grinned mischievously up at her. "Maybe I do. Niklaus sent me to get you. He has a surprise."_

But one thing Canna did make her daughter do, was get out of bed early.

Canna smiled down at her sleeping daughter, and unceremoniously poured a bowl of water on her head. Leta jumped and fell to the floor with a thump and a cry of surprise.

"What the bloody hell-"

Canna cut her off quickly. "You wear mens clothing you start getting treated like a man. That is how I would wake my son up if I had one."

Leta shook her head to free some of the water from her hair and stood up, looking disgruntled and annoyed.

"I'm building my own home," she muttered grudgingly, her hair sticking to her nightdress and causing her to shiver at the cold.

Canna laughed and patted her on the shoulder before leaving the room, calling back, "Would you just change and get ready for the day. It is a beautiful one."

Leta groaned, her head in her hands as she tried to get herself to wake up properly.

Although she loved mornings, she usually liked to wake up by herself. She liked waking up and getting dressed and eating breakfast on her own terms, not her mothers. But, if Leta was to admit it, it wasn't that terrible considering what other peoples mothers did.

It took Leta five minutes to wash, dress, and eat, then she ducked outside into the fresh, morning air. She stretched, her joints popping. Her hair was still damp from the water, but the sun was starting to warm up so her hair would soon be dry.

"Mother, I promised Nik I'd meet him today," she called quickly, before she started walking briskly through the village, ignoring the looks of a few of the village people who still disapproved of her attire.

 **This wasn't a too good chapter, but it was mainly something to show her character and her bond with the Mikaelson's and all that.**

 **VOTE AND COMMENT! Please.**

 **x**


	4. Chapter 3

The sun shone brightly as Leta made her way through Mystic Falls, greeting each of its inhabitants as she went. It was a warm day, though somehow there was also a chill in the air. Autumn had come to the village. Although it was cold, the sun was not, it was like sitting next to the fire with the window open, both freeze and warm at the same time.

When she reached the Mikaelson's home, she paused, listening hard. But all she heard was the birds singing in the forest, the wind rushing somewhere overhead, and her own heart beating. As well as the villagers busily doing in days jobs that were necessary to keep their families from starving or freezing to death.

The hut the Mikaelson's called home was no bigger than any of the other huts that made up the small village know as Mystic Falls. It had a few windows and a back door and a front boor. It was made mainly from mud and logs and animal dung. But it had weathered through the years with only a few minor repairs needed.

"Morning, Leta," Niklaus greeted her, when she knocked on the door. He looked better than he had yesterday, his dirty blond hair falling to his shoulders. His smiled brought out the dimples in his cheeks. Though Niklaus was one of the sweetest and innocent of all the Mikaelson's, his smile was a devilish thing, playful and wild. His grin was something more.

"Good morning, Niklaus," she replied, giving him a mock curtsy.

He laughed and stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind him, though it still squeaked a little on its hinges. He gave her a hug and then leaned back against the side of the hut, folding his arms and surveying her in a scrutinising manner.

"Back's back to normal then?" she asked, raising her eyebrow at him and smiling with just the corner of her mouth. If she had had more time she would have come up with a better line, but that was the best she could do when she was caught on the spot.

His face fell a little, making Leta immediately regret her words, but he nodded anyway. "It was not as bad as you first assumed. Do not worry about me, Leta."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Niklaus Mikaelson, it is my duty to worry about my best friend. Always and Forever remember?"

"Always and Forever, my little forest nymph."

Leta and Nik were the best of friends. Always had been, always would be. Always and Forever. That was just the way things were, no one would ever be able to change that, both were sure of it. But even the best of friendships must end one day.

"It is only Always and Forever if you can beat me in combat, Niklaus. Otherwise I see no point in keeping you by my side."

It was Elijah. He stood in the doorway, his arms folded, smiling at his own joke. Leta laughed a little, while Nik just raised his eyebrows and sighed theatrically.

"It is an absolutely splendid morning, isn't it, Elijah?" he asked sarcastically, smiling at him.

Elijah was a year older than Niklaus, with dark, almost black hair, that reached to his shoulders. His arms were muscular and he was dressed in a similar get up to what Leta was wearing.

"Hello, Elijah," Leta smiled wryly.

Elijah gave her an acknowledging nod and a friendly smile in return. "You may join us if you like, Leta. After all, you are much more of a competition than my _dear_ brother here." He laughed and Niklaus aimed a small punch at his brother's shoulder, but Elijah moved out of the way quicker than Leta would have thought possible.

But she smiled again. "I suppose I can spare a few hours, 'Lijah. Will Kol be joining us or is he too busy with his witchcraft and being the prodigy child and all that?"

Leta liked Kol well enough, maybe more than she would ever to admit anyone ever, but sometimes he could really drive you to the point where you wished he would just walk of a cliff. He had a way about him that would irritate even the most patient of souls.

Elijah shrugged offhandedly. "I haven't seen Kol all day. I'm not even sure he came home last night. He has been spending most of his time alone in the woods. Probably working on some new spell mother has given him."

Leta frowned. "Is there something wrong?"

Elijah just shook his head, looking puzzled. "No. But whenever I ask him about it he just smiles and tells me to 'wait and see'. Normally it would be very annoying, but he's become increasingly more obnoxious as his powers grow, so sometimes it is a relief that he isn't here. His ego tends to fill up the any room he enters. It get's kind of... claustrophobic sometimes."

"Sounds quite infuriating," Leta commented matter-of-factly. "Now, swords? Or are we going to simply sit and trade pleasant chit-chat all day?"

The corner of Niklaus's mouth twitched as he stepped in between them and picked up three swords that were leaning up against the side of the hut, each in their own leather scabbard.

"Here, Leta. You can use mine. It is probably the best fit for you. I'll use Finn's. He can be without it for today."

Leta accepted the sword he held out to her and tested its weight in one hand. She nodded her approval.

"It does seem to be sufficient enough. Though I really must get my own soon. Do remind me."

They made their way to the centre of the village, which was always the best spot to fight. It was open, where everyone could watch if they wanted to, cheering and booing or just observing. Really, they partly went there because people would be there, but they partly went because it was convenient.

Leta's laugh was like a tinkling bell as it rang through the air in a crystal clear peel of pure joy. She was glad in leather. Dark leather trousers incased her slim legs and a white shirt, like pirates were supposed to wear was fitted neatly to the upper half of her body. A belt ran around her waist, holding the shirt snugly to her, and she wore protective strips of leather on her forearms. In one hand she gripped Niklaus's sword, which looked too heavy for her to even begin to lift. Her golden hair was pulled back into a long plait, which waved from side to side as she moved.

"Come, Henrik, Niklaus and Leta are fighting again!" called Rebekah to her younger brother, running to watch the duel ensuing between Niklaus and the fair haired Leta Mitchell.

Rebekah stayed a good distance away, not wishing to get stabbed by the clashing blades.

Henrik soon caught up with her, panting.

Henrik was the youngest of the Mikaelson's, only sixteen years of age, with hair like Elijah's and a skinny form. Even though he was by far the runt of the family, Niklaus was still the one who bore the brunt of his father's rage.

To one side Elijah stood with his sword hanging limply in his hand, waiting his turn to duel the winner of the fight currently going on.

Leta swerved elegantly, turning in a full circle, her plait flying as Niklaus feinted to the right, and she neatly severed the sword belt around his waist with the tip of her sword. It was a move Nik had taught her himself just a week ago.

Niklaus gave her a look of approval and then turned his attention to Rebekah. "Oh, look, sister's arrived," Niklaus said, attempting to trip up Leta with his boot. "She's here to laugh at you when you lose," he continued, succeeding in disarming Leta and pinning her to the ground

He was laughing along with her now.

"Be that as it may, Nik, I will one day best you in a fight," Leta said, as Niklaus helped her to her feet.

To the ignorant onlooking they looked like a flirting couple, but they were just two people, the best of friends. They had known each other since babyhood and always looked out for each other.

"The trick was a nice touch though," Niklaus told her, grinning.

They were still holding hands, their merry laughs harmonising; soprano and bass, when suddenly Niklaus's face froze, the picture of fear, his eyes consumed by it. And the laughter died on his lips, replaced by a look Leta hated she was familiar with.

Leta knew the tell-tale signs well. She knew the way his mouth tightened, the way he gripped her hands so tightly it started to hurt. She could see the tension and feel it. And, above all, she could hear the heavy footfalls of a man coming closer and closer to them.

From the corner of her eye she saw Elijah throw a worried glance at Nik and herself, shifting from foot to foot anxiously.

She looked up into Niklaus's face and his eyes met hers. "Mikael?" she mouthed, not really needing an answer.

Her eyes betrayed her worry as she, so Mikael could not see, touched a hand to Niklaus's heart and smiled reassuringly. She was trying to say without words that it would be okay. Niklaus tried to smile back, but Leta had already turned to face Niklaus's father.

Mikael Mikaelson was blond and his eyes were stony. His whole body seemed to portray hatred and muscle. He was very strong. He often went away to fight in the wars, coming back enraged and bloodthirsty, only able to be calmed by a special concoction Leta had had to help her make once.

Without any greeting, Mikael snatched the sword from Elijah's hand-Elijah made a slight move, thinking of taking it back, but stopping a moment to long-who had been waiting to fight. Mikael rounded menacingly on the two young friends.

"So, you want to fight? Why don't you show me that trick, young warrior?"

 **Fuuuck... I forgot how awesome it is to write for the Mikaelson's! Next chapter should be awesome. I hope so anyway.**

 **x**


	5. Chapter 4

_"Why don't you show me that trick, young warrior?"_

Niklaus swallowed. "I was only having fun, Father."

"Fun?" Mikael snarled, spit flying from between his lips. "We fight for our survival and you find time for fun!"

Leta felt her laughs from a moment ago turn into shouts that began to rise up in her throat. But she suppressed all the things she wanted to say, and watched.

Niklaus cowered away from him, the look in his eyes nothing but pure terror. His whole body seemed to irradiate it, like there wasn't anything else. His muscles tensed, waiting for Mikael's inevitable outburst.

"I want to have fun! Come on, teach me!"

It took Leta a split second to work out what was about to happen, but still it seemed to happen slowly, like slow-motion. And in that one, minuscule moment, she acted. She acted, not to save Niklaus, but to save herself. She dove out of the way of Mikael's swinging sword, falling into Elijah's outstretched arms and staying there as she caught her balance again. He gripped just above her elbows tightly, ensuring that she did not fall, a slightly amused quirk to his mouth.

From behind her there was a loud and ominous clang of metal on metal, steel on steel, sword on sword. The silence was deafening, the ringing of the impact still hanging in the air like cobwebs. Leta could hardly bare to turn around. But she did anyway, knowing it was best to get it over with.

Niklaus had his sword raised, the strain of holding off Mikael's blow making a tremble run through it. But his arm was beginning to shake with the effort. Without warning, Mikael moved, swinging his sword to the side and almost catching Niklaus in the ribcage. He only moved in the knick of time, backing up a few steps and blocking the metal's edge with his forearm. It made a slicking sound as it cut into his skin.

It was only a small cut, Leta could tell that by the way the blood ran bright red, not dark, only turning the white of his shirtsleeve light instead of an inky black, crimson. She let out a sight of relief and loosened her grip on Elijah's hand. She had no recollection of intertwining their fingers in the first place.

Elijah cut her a sideways glance, his eyes tinged with worry, but he did nothing as Mikael made his next move, taking precise and deliberate steps forward, his sword raised to Niklaus's chest hight. Each time he got closer, Nik would take a stumbling step backwards, trying to stay out of his reach.

"P-Please, Father," he whispered, tears of desperation beginning to sparkle in his dark blue eyes. "It was just a game..."

Mikael laughed cruelly then, and it was something that chilled Leta to her very core, making her want to bury herself far beneath the earth so she would never hear it again. She had only heard Mikael laugh twice before, and neither times had it been at anything particularly amusing.

"My dear little Niklaus," he hissed; another step. "I do not care if it was practice. I do not care if it was a game!" Step. This time he cocked his head to one side, calculating his next move carefully. "NOW TEACH ME THAT TRICK!"

He lunged, his sword meeting Niklaus' again with a clash that rang out like a bells toll. It was all Nik could do to stop the blade from hitting him again as Mikael brought his foot into contact with Niklaus's leg. It knocked Niklaus's feet our from under him, sending him sprawling onto his back.

Leta heard the breath leaving him as he hit the ground, hard. His head smacked onto the dirt and his sword was sent skittering away with a simple flick of Mikael's. It stopped a foot away from Leta, throwing dirt over the top of her boots.

Leta could tell that any words of self-defence Niklaus had been thinking of saying, had long gone out the window of his mind when the breath had gone out of his lungs. And, as Mikael raised his sword, pointing it at Niklaus's throat, she finally snapped out of her surprised daze and acted.

It was like she was in a trance as she bent down and wrapped her fingers tightly around the hilt of Niklaus's sword, picking it up easily and turning it on Mikael's back, digging the tip in slightly between his shoulder-blades to give him a fair warning of her presence. The hilt was still warm from when Niklaus had been holding it.

"Leave him alone, Mikael," she spat, her voice un-quavering, though her arms were shaking a little.

Mikael froze, slowly lowering his own weapon until it hung loosely by his side. His eyes remained fixed straight ahead, not looking at anything in particular. But he didn't move at all.

There was something extremely satisfying about holding Mikael Mikaelson at sword point, Leta reflected, blinking slowly at his back.

"Now, Leta, you wouldn't want to fight me," he told her quietly, his voice level and cold. "Do not forget what happened last time," he warned her in a gentle tone, but underneath it she could hear the threat he was implying.

The long and the short of it was that Mikael had beaten her, but that had been before she had fully known her way around the art of fighting with a sword. Last time she had barely been able to lift it without her arms growing weak, this time she was ready for anything he decided to throw at her. Kol had been teaching her well. Well, she thought he had, though she wasn't actually sure.

"I've learned much since that day, Mikael," she assured him coolly. "Now I can throw around a sword like I would a pebble. I don't care if I win or if I lose, either way I shall not let you harm Niklaus."

Mikael turned around then, slowly, a smirk across his face. His eyes gleamed in his anger, black pits that held no emotion but pure, personified rage, fury. He had his hands raised in surrender now, the sword raised with them, a resigned look of defeat on her face. It was an entirely fake act of sarcasm, patronising down to the very way he moved his hands.

"Well, it appears we have a new warrior amongst us," he said loudly, loud enough for everyone in the general area to hear. And it turned out quite a crowd and started to collect, most of the village people in fact.

Leta put her head to one side mockingly. "Maybe we do." She shrugged. "Guess we'll have to see."

"Leta," Elijah said, his voice hushed. He placed a hand on her arm warningly. "Don't do this. Please," he begged, his eyes searching hers deeply, a worried crease appearing on his forehead.

All Leta did was give him one, withering stare and he backed off, seeing it would be of no use to try and stop her. She wasn't about to back down.

Mikael chuckled. "Well then, are we going to stand around all day until dusk begins to fall, or are we going to fight?" Mikael's voice rose withe each word.

Leta stepped forwards suddenly, swiping the tip of the sword towards Mikael's throat in an arc that forced him to duck out of the way or get a red smile put where it shouldn't be. Mikael retaliated, his own sword smashing against Leta's, knocking her momentarily off balance. But she planted her feet firmly and swung the sword in her hand, catching Mikael across the face. It was only a scratch, but a small trickle of blood dribbled down his cheek. Leta had trouble keeping the smile wiped off her face.

Mikael reached up and touched the tip of his index finger to the blood, bringing it away from his face so he could examine it closely.

Mikael was a man who favoured strength over sneakiness, and that was why his next move caught Leta by surprise, making her do the stupid thing. She stepped backwards, losing her footing and stumbling badly. She teetered for a moment on the verge of falling as Mikael slashed the blade through the air. Leta was forced too twirl away from the sharp edge in order to avoid being speared on the end of it. And when she came out of her spin, she went straight for the side of his midriff with her sword. Mikael blocked the attack and advanced with one of his own; a quick strike to her forearm as she put it up to stop the sword from colliding with her face.

"Father!" Niklaus tried to object. He was standing on the sidelines of the fight next to Elijah. But all Mikael did was ignore him, sending another volley of blows at her that she only just managed to block. She felt a stinging pain slice into her side, and something wet and sticky began to soak her shirt.

It was all over very quickly, quicker than Leta thought it would be. Her failed attempt at defending herself caused Mikael to move like a viper, hooking his foot around her ankle and yanking with all his might. And then she was on the ground, her back aching and her lungs empty.

It took her five whole seconds to breathe again, but when she did, Mikael had already pointed the tip of his sword at her throat, keeping it only a mere inch away from the flesh. She thought she was going to go crosseyed from watching it as he moved the point to hover between her eyes.

"You are weak, Leta Mitchell. You are a woman, not even that, a girl. You are not worthy of the right to wield a sword and you should not be trying to stop me from punishing my own son in the way I see fit. Next time you will not get off so lightly."

"Now now, Father, is that any way to treat a respectable, if a little eccentric, young woman? Especially one who is as beautiful as a forest nymph."

And Kol Mikaelson stepped into her field of vision, a grin plastered across his face. His dark brown eyes were shining, a chuckle already rising to his lips.

 **Kol is my second fav original brother, though personally I'd date them all except Finn cos nobody likes Finn. He's such a mama's boy.**

 **Vote and comment.**

 **X**


	6. Chapter 5

Mikael lowered his sword and gave Leta a contemptuous look, his nose turned up at her. Without another word he stabbed the sword violently into the ground next to Leta's head, only a few inches away. Leta flinched involuntarily and Mikael chuckled. Then he turned and made his way through the small crowd of villagers, who hastily got out of his way, the women picking up their skirts as they did so, the men merely standing aside with polite nods towards him.

Once Mikael was completely out of sight, Kol stepped forwards and smiled, holding out his hand, which was marked by work, a small scar running across his palm, like he had cut it with a knife.

"Love, you really need to learn how to stay out of things that don't concern you," Kol told her, smirking down at her. His eyes were alight in his amusement, the way he usually looked when others were in misfortune.

"I only meddle where meddling is required," Leta said, grasping his hand firmly in her own and letting him help her up from her position lying in the dirt. She gave him a curt smile, her lips tight and her eyes tense. Leta could never quite act herself around Kol anymore, not for a good few years now, though she always missed his presence when he was gone.

Kol sighed theatrically, casting his eyes skywards. "All the same, your tendency to poke your nose into other families affairs _will_... get you kill one day, darling." Kol cocked his head to the side, his grip on her hand becoming as hard as stone as he stared into her grey-blue eyes. His own were quite different.

"I meddle because it is the right thing to do, I meddle because I care, which is something you clearly lack the ability to do," Leta snapped, tugging her hand from his roughly and doing her best attempt at a glare.

Kol laughed. "It is so good to feel loved, isn't it, Nik?" The taunt was directed at Leta, though the question was for Niklaus.

Niklaus came to stand next to Leta. He hugged her suddenly, muttering in her ear so only she could hear his words. "Thank you, Leta." Then he turned to Kol, his eyes hardening. "Leave her be, Kol."

Leta smiled at Kol and winked. This earned her a nod of the head and a half smile in return. "She doesn't mind, does she?" Kol said, his gaze bored into Leta's.

"It is all right, Niklaus," Leta told him quietly, touching a hand to his arm. "Go. I'll meet you at the river, shall I?"

Niklaus gave a reluctant nod, his eyes wary. It appeared he worried about her interacting with Kol. Maybe it was because he was the only one of the Mikaelson's who had tapped into their magical abilities already. Possibly it was just because he saw Leta as his sister and he saw Kol as his brother. Perhaps he was just concerned that Kol might break Leta's heart one day. Or he could just have been judging by how they had spoken to each other just now, and was scared one of them might become angry and hurt the other. Either way, it didn't look like he was willingly leaving them.

Leta huffed and turned to Elijah, who now stood alone a little way aways from the three of them. "Elijah will you please take your good-for-nothing little brother away with you. He's hovering like an overprotective brother and I am not related to him, so... drag him away to the river."

Elijah shook his head, a smile turning up one corner of his mouth. Laugher filled his eyes, though it did not come from him verbally. But he raised his hand and beckoned to Nik. "Come on, Niklaus, do not get jealous of them." He laughed quietly to himself.

Rebekah and Henrik chose that moment to come over, and Rebekah said, "Aw, Nik, you'll see her again soon."

Niklaus chuckled then. "I'll put the swords back and then I'll meet you at the river." He bent down and kissed Leta on the cheek quickly before he turned and walked away. Leta's eyes followed him.

"You should really put something on that cut. Darling, it looks serious. Wouldn't want it getting infected now, would we?" Kol pointed out, touching the tips of his fingers to the slash in Leta's side.

Leta winced and moved away from him, pain shooting through her side. It wasn't severe, the cut, but there was a slim possibility that, if it were to be left untreated, it would fester and become infected. That could lead to all manner of unpleasant illnesses. Most would culminate in death, so all Leta did was nod.

"Yes, Kol, I should," she agreed, laying a hand over the wound and pressing down on it to stop the bleeding.

A fleeting look of concern flashed across Kol's face and he took her by the arm, turning to face Rebekah. "Bekah, darling, will you be a dear and fetch me some calendula and comfrey. If she dies of infection Niklaus and Elijah would never forgive me."

Rebekah smiled sweetly at Kol. "Of course I will." And she darted away, followed closely by Henrik, who had a shadow-like quality about him. He wasn't much of a talker, but he was, and always had been, the best listener. And that was what Leta loved about him.

 _The tears stained her face, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her shoulders shook with sobs. It felt as if her heart would break, though she knew that was not possible._

 _"Are you all right?" Henrik asked. He was standing over her, his eyes worried, looking a little uncomfortable._

 _Leta wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and shook her head. "No."_

 _Henrik lowered himself down so he sat beside her, and he didn't say anything for a very long time. Then, "You do not have to tell me, but please know that you can," he told her earnestly, laying a hand over hers and curling his fingers. They were warm and comforting, rough with work, but not scarred._

 _"Thank you..."_

"Come on, love," Kol urged, snapping Leta from her reminiscing and back to the present.

She looked sideways and him and nodded distantly. "Yeah, okay."

"Would it be to early to take you home with me, darling?" Kol asked jokingly, raising his eyebrows at Leta.

Leta sighed and shook her head. "Kol, please be serious for just one second."

Kol smiled. "I can't make any promises, love," he informed her cheekily, beginning to tow her along with him as he walked.

"Do not be flirtatious, do not be irritating, just make the damn poultice before I throw you off the werewolf cliff," she said tiredly, shoving Kol's shoulder, a wry smile upon her perfect lips.

"Oh, we've got a feisty one here. Watch out, you'll be attacking warriors before you know it."

"Too late."

Leta was silent then, thinking hard. Thinking about how sometimes she would hate Kol and sometimes she would love him, laugh with him, never want to be out of his sight, always wanting to take his hand in hers. She didn't know if Kol felt the same way about her though.

Her heart always pounded too fast when she was with him, her blood always too loud. Her cheeks tended to become inflamed with heat also, like she was going to burst into flames.

"Leta, darling, we're here," Kol cooed jokingly, clicking his fingers in front of her face.

Leta blinked at him, blushing slightly. "Am I allowed no time to think at all?" she asked, an unwilling smile curling her mouth upwards.

"No, none at all, love," he answered sarcastically, opening the front door and ushering her through it with a sweeping bow.

Leta rolled her eyes, dramatically gliding over the threshold like she were a queen. She giggled over her shoulder at Kol as he came in behind her and closed the door.

The inside of the hut was simple, on one side there was a rumbled pile of blankets where Kol, Elijah, Finn, Henrik, Niklaus, and Rebekah slept. Across the room there was another pile where Esther and Mikael slept together. To the left there was a fire-pit, the fire burning brightly. A pot of hot water was just beginning to bubble. Baskets and other assorted items lined the walls and took up a good deal of the floor.

"Oh my goodness, Leta! What happened?" asked a woman, who had been sitting watching the flames until they came inside.

At Leta and Kol's entrance she had jumped to her feet, one hand flying to her mouth. Much like her daughter, Esther had long blond hair that reached down to her waist. Her eyes were blue and she was slightly more rounded than in her younger days. She wore a dull, brown dress.

Leta smiled at Esther. "Oh, the usual; Nik, Mikael, a sword, a fight, my intervening."

Esther shook her head in exasperation as she hurried over to her. "I cannot thank you enough for what you did, but you really should stop this, Leta. You cannot continue to oppose Mikael forever, you know."

Esther said all this while her hands were busy at Leta's side. She quickly lifted the shirt away from the cut and instructed Leta to keep it out of the way.

"I sent Bekah to get the herbs we need," Kol said suddenly, seeming to feel a little left out. Eliljah was right, Leta reflected. Kol's ego really did seem to fill up the room.

Esther gave him a approving nod. "Kol, fetch a cloth and soak it in that water, then go and see why Rebekah is dawdling."

Leta laughed disbelievingly. "It cannot be that bad, Esther."

Esther smiled. "No, it isn't, but in my opinion something should be treated as soon as it can be, not left a moment longer. Wouldn't you agree?" She glanced briefly up at Leta as Kol came back with the wet cloth.

Leta rolled her eyes, though she found she did agree with what Esther said.

It wasn't longer before Rebekah came with the herbs. Esther quickly pounded them up with hot water to create a poultice, which she placed on the wound and then wrapped a strip of cloth around Leta's waist to hold it in place. She then smiled at Leta and told her to be on her way.

"You were very brave about all that," Kol said, when they were outside again.

"Do not patronise me, Kol. I am not a child."

"No, but you are a fairy, which is far, far smaller."

 **I don't know, I feel like the last bit of this chapter is a disappointment, but maybe someday I will re-write this so it doesn't really matter.**

 **x**


	7. Chapter 6

Fairy or not, Leta was something quite extraordinary, at least in Kol Mikaelson's eyes in any rate. She didn't have wings, but in her presence all problems did seem to turn to pixie dust and float away. Or at least that was what Kol thought. But then again, he had always thought very highly of his-he hoped she one day would be-forest nymph. His fairy.

You see, a very long time ago Kol had made up his mind that he would marry Leta. Of course Leta had no idea of his plans. She was completely ignorant of the way he would bow down and lick her shoes if she asked him too. She didn't know he would most likely fight the werewolves for her if he had too.

"I am no fairy, Kol," Leta objected, shoving him playfully. Kol pretended to stumble a few steps too humour her, though in reality the push would not have budged him.

"Whatever you say, love."

Leta rolled her eyes at him. "I want to meet Niklaus at the river like I promised. If you wish to come you may, but it shall be done in complete and utter silence."

Kol laughed amiably, slinging an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to him as they began to walk into the forest. "You see, darling, I'm just not the quiet type."

Leta looked up at him with an 'oh, really?' expression upon her face. "No, you are one cocky bastard, Kol," she said coldly, wriggling out of his grasp.

He chuckled. "Why, you know me too well, darling."

"I see right through you. You are almost transparent too me, a ghost." She turned around and tapped his chest, walking backwards. "You might as well not even exist."

Kol clapped a hand to his heart as they entered the trees. "I feel genuinely wounded, love. I never knew that was the way you felt about me."

"Of course, of course."

For awhile they simply walked side by side, listening to the noises of the wood. Kol pushed his hands deep into his pockets, gazing up at the leafy canopy above his head. The sunlight made the leaves glow a bright, yet deep, green, with patches where its rays came through like little pieces of gold.

"Leta," Kol said suddenly, stopping and looking at her.

Leta stopped too, turning to face him, a frown creasing her brow. "What is it, Kol?" she asked, crossing her arms. She tapped her foot impatiently.

Kol smiled quickly. "Would you be opposed to meeting me... _here_ , on the night of the full moon?" Kol inquired, clapping his hands together and holding them there as if he were praying. His eyes never so much as left hers.

"Why?" Leta asked suspiciously, her frown deepening in her curiosity.

Kol smiled blandly, then raised a finger. "Ah. I cannot tell you."

Leta rolled her eyes and sighed irritably, glowering at him and then whirling and walking away into the surrounding trees. Kol hurried after her, soon falling into step beside her.

"I'll take that as a no then?" His voice was tinged with his disappointment, his eyes showing it even more.

Leta glanced sideways at him and shook her head a little. "I will not meet a strange man in the woods, after dark, on the night when magic is at its most strength, Kol," she told him firmly, a small smirk playing on her lips. Her eyes were shining brightly, like the sun shone through the leaves.

Kol laughed then. "I am no stranger to you. I have known you since I were born." He jumped over a tree root and ran down a bank after her.

"I never said that. I said you were a strange man!" she called as she ran ahead, her plaited hair swinging wildly from side to side as each foot hit the ground.

"Will you just answer yes or no, forest nymph?" Kol panted as he caught up with her again.

"The full moon is only a day away, Kol."

"So what?"

Leta paused, hanging on to a branch above her head. "What do you mean so what?" she demanded, suddenly turning from her happy self to a rather pissed off version.

Kol put his hands in the air in surrender. "Whoa... Calm down there, love. It was only a question."

Leta glared at him then, a glare that could shake even Mikael Mikaelson to his core. "I do not..." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose. "I cannot talk of the full moon..."

Kol frowned, confused for a moment. "I... I do not understand... You do not become a wolf, why are you so upset over the subject?"

Leta turned away, beginning to walk slowly along, letting her fingers trail across the bark of the trees. She said nothing. Her hair fell across her face, shielding it from Kol's eyes.

"Kol... You know that I am destined to be a wolf one day... It is only inevitable that I break my curse, join the pack. It could be tomorrow, it could be ten years from now, it could be next time I fight your father." She continued walked as she talked, her voice steadily growing closer to cracking. "You see why I hate the full moon is because I will one day have to break every bone in my body like the wolves do. And to top that off I will have taken a life."

"And you do not wish to become a murderer," Kol finished for her, his voice gentle and soft.

Leta looked back at him and nodded. "Yes."

Leta had been born into one of the two families that could change their shape come the full moon. But each time they did this, everyone bone in their body would break and reform, giving them hours of agony. And Leta had never wanted to be one of them.

The ritual they held to initiate you was something worse. She would have to kill someone. She didn't care how guilty they were, she refused to lift the blade that would end their lives. But one day that would be required of her. And she had a horrible feeling that day would be sooner than she wanted.

Although Niklaus was her best friend, she had never fully confided her fears to him. She had only ever told one person. Henrik Mikaelson. He had only been fifteen at the time, but he had sat and listened patiently and swore never to tell a soul.

Henrik was like a little brother to her, someone she could confide in without being judged, someone she could talk to without worrying her secrets were being revealed. And the best part was that they weren't even that close as friends, he would just come and listen when she needed him to. There would be nothing awkward between them, nothing to make her worry.

Of course Leta didn't use Henrik just because he listened to her. She did love him dearly and she would always, always protect him if he needed protecting. She would lay down her life for any of the Mikaelson's, except maybe Mikael and Finn.

They weren't far from the river now, only another couple of minutes away. Leta sped up so she would reach the river first. She laughed suddenly, abruptly changing the mood.

"Race you!" she shouted, dashing through the trees like she were a young doe.

Kol was taken off guard by her mood swing, but he was soon running after her, his arms working easily at his sides.

It was Leta who came rushing our onto the riverbank first, almost falling over Niklaus, who was sitting there... carving again. He always seemed to carve, using the wood of the white oak tree, which was his favourite wood to carve with.

As Leta almost tripped over him it was Elijah who caught her, having been leaning up against a tree, staring out across the water of the rushing river, his forehead wrinkled in thought. He had one hand wrapped firmly around her upper arm, ensuring she could not fall into the river.

"For someone so smart you can do the most ridiculous things sometimes, Leta," he informed her, his eyes sparkling as he tried to suppress a small laugh.

Niklaus had done no such thing, probably hoping she would fall in and get drenched in the icy water. He was laughing openly as he continued carving, his shoulders shaking with it.

"Oh my noble warrior," Leta feigned dramatically, putting a hand to her brow. "I'm so grateful to be save from plummeting to my death. What ever shall I do without you?"

Elijah tilted his head to one side thoughtfully, then raised one finger. "You know you could have actually died from falling in. Pneumonia is very easily caught when winter is near."

Leta rolled her eyes. It was one of her favourite responses to anything. "You're no fun, Elijah. I thought at least you might play the part," she reprimanded him, sticking out her bottom lip and pretending to cry. She wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye.

"Quite to the contrary, Elijah does play the part," Nik put in, still chuckling. "He is quite the noble warrior. Just not for you... Is that not right, Elijah?"

"Ugh!" Leta said, throwing her hands in the air. "You are not still going on about this Tatia, are you?"

They both looked a little ashamed.

Leta gasped. "Both of you? Still? Just ask her to choose and be done with it. I am sick of you two bickering over her."

"We have not fought over her," Elijah contradicted, looking confused.

Leta turned back to him. "Yes, but you will. Trust me. I know you both too well to believe you will simply leave each other be. All I can hope for is that when she does choose, whoever is left partnerless will respect her choice."

"Well, Niklaus and Elijah will certainly be noble about it, I'm sure," Kol said. Leta hadn't noticed him arrive, he must have been stood there awhile though.

"I hope so," Leta told them, give each a stern look.

And she really meant it.

 **Eh, I don't know if I like quite a bit of this chapter, but I was mainly trying to tell you guys about her werewolf curse and all that.**

 **x**


	8. Chapter 7

Much later that day, Leta was alone on the Wolf Cliff as she had so called it. She could always count on everyone never to find her there.

The sunlight was dying, casting the world into a golden glow, making the ground around her shine a warm brown. In that moment before the sun started to disappear everything was still, everything seemed silent, like someone had frozen the world. All her worries seemed to be at the bottom of the cliff, far away and not important. Everything was peaceful, calm, and almost like she was no longer in the same world as before.

Her mind wandered back to her conversation with Niklaus that afternoon.

 _They were sitting side by side on the doorstep of Niklaus' home._

 _"Are you alright, Niklaus?" she asked._

 _At her question he smiled, casting his eyes downwards. "You are the one who fought my father, Leta. I should be concerned about you," chided Niklaus, moving closer to her, so their shoulders were touching._

 _Leta's face became serious as she uttered her next words, "I-He is terrifying, Niklaus, but I am not crippled by my fear. Learn to conquer your own."_

 _"I cannot help it, Leta. Every time I feel the paralyses creeping up on me and I can do nothing to stop it." His eyes filled with unshed tears._

 _Leta took his hand and smiled sadly._

 _Then... "Niklaus...? Sorry."_

 _The door of the hut had opened and Finn, the eldest Mikaelson sibling, came out, a grim expression on his face. He paused haltingly._

 _"Am I not welcome?" he inquired, a small smirk of satisfaction creeping across his face._

 _Leta stood, a not quite genuine smile upon her ruby lips. "It is your own home, Finn. Of course you are welcome." She kissed him on the cheek, saying afterwards, "I should be getting back to mine. Goodbye, Niklaus, Finn."_

 _Once she was out of sight of their hut, she breathed in a lungful of cold autumn air, relieved at being alone. And, as she often did when she wanted to be alone, she ran toward the forest._

"Hello, love."

The spell was cracked a little as she turned around to find Kol standing, leaning against the trunk of a tree, his arms folded. He cocked his head to one side and smiled gently.

"What're you doing here, Kol? I-" She frowned stroppily. "How do you even know about this place?" she asked suspiciously, turning to face him properly. She raised an accusing finger and pointed it in his direction.

Kol chuckled, looking down at his feet and pushing away from the tree. He began to walk towards her. "I have my ways, love."

Leta rolled her eyes sarcastically. "You..." she sighed. "You are so irritating, Kol."

He laughed as he came to stand beside her. "I get that said to me more often than you realise, Leta."

"What do you want then?" she asked, crossing her arms as well and gazing across to the cliff opposite, where the man became wolves.

"I can't help but notice you did not answer my question earlier."

Leta dropped her arms and set her lips in a thin line, looking at him disbelievingly. "And I cannot help but recall that I said I do not wish to discuss it," she snapped, giving him a 'duh' look.

Kol shook his head, refusing to accept what she said. "Leta Mitchell, will you or will you not, meet me on the night of the full moon?" he asked, his tone only conveying a small amount of his impatience.

Leta rounded on him. "Ask me that one more time, Kol, and you'll be the reason I break my curse."

Kol gripped her shoulders suddenly. "Why are you so afraid of the full moon? You will not kill anyone. It does you no harm to go out on that particular night," he half shouted, shaking her slightly.

Leta reflected on this. Truth be told, she had no idea why she was fighting Kol. It would be so much more simple just to meet him and get it other with, whatever 'it' was. It was clear he really wanted her to meet him, but it was also clear he had some sort of plan that was none to new.

"Why do you want to meet me?" she asked quietly, looking up at him through her lashes.

"Because..." Kol started, saying the word rather faster than she had thought he would. "I have a surprise for you."

She smiled wanly, feeling very tired all of a sudden. "Okay... Alright. You win. I shall meet you."

Kol laughed and kissed her on the forehead suddenly. She could feel that he was still smiling before he drew back and hugged her.

"Oh, well, whoa..." she said, giggling at his strange behaviour. It was most un-Kol like.

"I think you'll quite enjoy what I have to show you," he told her with a grin plastered on his face.

Leta nodded, raising her eyebrows at him. "Yes, or course."

"You don't believe me?" he challenged, poking her in the side.

"Not one bit, Mr. Mikaelson," she replied, smiling up at him.

The moment would have been perfect if she hadn't looked away. They probably would have kissed right then and there if she hadn't. But such things were not meant to be. Or at least not then. But as it was, Leta moved away a few steps and looked back out across the cliff.

Kol sighed a little, though not loud enough for her to hear. "I should be getting back. Mother will be wondering where I've been."

Leta nodded absentmindedly, casting a look over her shoulder at him. "See you tomorrow, Kol."

And he was gone, leaving her alone again. She preferred it that way. Being alone gave her time to think. Even if she had nothing particular to think about she still like to just toss idle thoughts through her brain without being disturbed. It was nice.

The sun was still quite high, though what she could see of it was now a deep orange and yellow. It seemed the perfect time.

And Leta began to sing. It was song she used to sing to Niklaus whenever he were upset, whenever he were recovering from one of Mikael's rages. It was their song, but it was also her very own.

" _Here in the forest clearing_

 _Down by the lake_

 _Watch the little birds as they start to wake_

 _Watch them as they stretch their wings_

 _Watch them as they start to fly_

 _Watch them as they see the world though their tiny eyes_

 _Watch them throughout the years as they begin to learn_

 _First they'll peck the earth_

 _Maybe catch a worm."_

 _Niklaus was eleven. His hair was short and his eyes were filled with tears. He was huddled down in a hollow, ivy and leaves hiding him from view. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his arms hugging them tightly._

 _"Niklaus?" a voice called. "Niklaus, are you there?"_

 _The vines were pushed aside suddenly and Leta stuck her head inside, looking curious._

 _Niklaus wiped his eyes quickly and shook his head. "I'm okay."_

 _Leta frowned and sat down beside him. "What did he do this time?" she asked, her tone resigned to the inevitable._

 _Niklaus shook his head again. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Just... a few kicks and bruises. You know..."_

 _Leta found a small laugh rising up her throat. "You make it sound so, so boring, Niklaus. It is not something to be dismissed, you know."_

 _His eyes clouded with tears once more. "I know," Nik nodded. The tears began to fall._

 _Leta pulled him to her gently, shushing him softly. And she began to sing. Her voice was pure, crystal clear. It sounded like the rushing waters of a stream, the chirping of the birds. It fit perfectly with nature, like it should be a part of it. Maybe being a part of the trees themselves._

 _"Watch as they stretch their wings..."_

The sun sunk lower and lower as she finished, until eventually the darkness had swallowed her whole, erasing even her shadow from existence. Well, it camouflaged her from all prying eyes. Not that anyone was there with her.

Leta felt restless, her mind buzzing with thoughts. What was Kol's surprise? Really that was the only question. She had to know.

But, at last, Leta forced herself to move, having no idea how long she had sat there. The dark hadn't deterred her from staying there, she hadn't been afraid of the dark for a long time now. Not since she first faced Mikael. Who, in pretty much everyones opinion, was the scariest thing on the planet.

The sticks snapped underneath her booted feet as she made her way through the trees, touching each on as she passed it. She could feel the frost beginning to set in, a sure sign that winter had come. There was that chill in the air only winter can have. It was freeing and made you feel as if you could do anything. It was cold also, but not unpleasantly so. The cold of christmas time nearing.

Leta's eyes had just begun to adjust to the dark when reached the outskirts of Mystic Falls. Her house was only a little ways in once she was down the bank and a few yards along. She could see all the fires burning through the shuttered windows. It was a welcoming warmth, but one Leta did not particularly enjoy.

With a sigh, Leta hurried towards home, pushing the door open and stepping inside. The cosiness was almost suffocating, like someone had pushed her inside a large snuggly pile of sheep wool.

Canna was waiting beside the fire, busily sewing away and occasionally stirring the pot that bubbled over the hot coals.

"The full moon is tomorrow," she said conversationally, not looking up from her work.

Leta nodded. "I know. I'm meeting Kol in the woods then."

"Are you sure that's wise?" her mother questioned coolly.

Leta shrugged. "I can't be afraid to go outside forever. I way as well start getting used to it. One day I'll have to be out on that cliff with all the others anyway..."

"One day you will forgive me for laying with a wolf," Canna told her daughter.

Leta snorted as she took off her boots. "I doubt it."

 **So, yes, Leta is a werewolf, but she hasn't broken her curse... yet... not saying she will at all. But shhhh...**

 **x**


	9. Chapter 8

The next morning, the morning of the night of the full moon, Leta woke to the light filtering through the closed shutters of the window. It was still cold, so when she climbed out of bed to change it was like someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over her.

The birds had only just began to sing, signalling that it was still very early in the morning. The sun hadn't even risen properly yet, still cresting the horizon.

Leta always seemed to be woken extra early on the full moon, like some subconscious sense inside her was begging to be let out, to be set free. She was sure she knew what it was. Leta was also equally sure she never wanted it to be allowed control.

Leta was hungry, but when she looked inside for something to eat, there was very little besides dried bread. Canna had hidden everything else away in the preparation for winter.

Leta picked up the bow and arrows that lay next to the door. She slung the quiver of arrows across her back. She then sighed and shook her head as she stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind her and beginning to walk softly through Mystic Falls, until she reached the far side of the forest, where the animals often liked to be.

Her feet made little to no sound as she picked her way through the trees, ducking underneath branches and avoiding the brittle sticks that adorned the forest floor.

It wasn't long before she heard the soft crunch crunch of hooves in the undergrowth, a doe or a deer maybe.

When it came into her field of vision, she was ready, one arrow already notched into place. But a noise to her left disturbed her, frightening the deer away. Her arrow thunked into a tree about five yards away from her and she cursed under her breath, turning angrily to see what it was.

The thing that had disturbed her was a man. His clothes were worn and faded, his eyes weary and tired. His hair was shoulder length and a light brownish colour, his eyes a crystal blue. It was a part of the wolf pack. Leta could not recall his name. But he looked oddly familiar.

"I was trying to catch that, thank you very much," she told him, scowling in annoyance.

The man stepped closer, raising an eyebrow. "Likewise," he said, showing her the bow that he held. He moved like he were approaching a wild animal, carefully.

"You're a wolf, aren't you?" Leta inquired, beginning to walk to retrieve her arrow.

The man followed her, keeping his distance. "Yes. My name is Ansel."

Oh... It was him...

"Why are you here then? Been allocated the pack cook?" Leta asked coldly, attempting to yank the arrow out of the trees trunk. It didn't so much as move an inch.

Leta didn't like talking to the werewolves. It reminded her that she would one day join them.

Ansel moved to stand beside her, chuckling and shaking his head a little as he pulled the arrow out for her and presented it.

"No, I am fetching food for my family while I am away. It only takes me half a days travel to reach a safe distance from here. Then I can wait until the shift is over."

Leta shrugged, giving him her best 'fair enough' face. "Why are you talking to me of this?"

It was Ansel's turn to shrug. "You're Jonas's daughter. I can talk freely."

Leta rolled her eyes. "I do not like to talk of my wolfish heritage. It reminds me that I must one day suffer as you suffer." Her voice dropped low, her eyes cast downwards. "I would never wish that upon anyone."

Ansel laughed. "It is not quite as bad as you think. After awhile, it becomes second nature."

Leta smiled at him. "Catch me a deer then will you."

And she walked away back towards the village.

The sun was beginning to sink below the trees, once again turning the world orange, casting long shadows over everything. The woods looked eerie and ghostlike now. Most had already shut their doors and barricaded them against the werewolves. Just incase.

But Leta was outside already, her breath misting in front of her. She could feel her fingers slowly freezing as she rubbed her arms to put some warmth back in them. She was waiting by the edge of the forest, stamping her feet and pacing back and forth as she waited for Kol.

All her senses were on high alert, the hairs on her neck standing on end. Every time she turned around she expected to see something waiting for her in the shadows. She was getting near to running back home, wanting to scream with every tiny noise.

Usually she revelled in the darkness, enjoying it, feeling safe, but tonight she felt nothing but panic. She was bristling with it, chewing her nails until they nearly bled.

"You alright there, darling?"

Leta jumped and whirled round, lashing out in her agitation. A small cry escaped her lips. Kol chuckled low in his throat as he easily deflected her blow.

"Kol," she breathed, her whole body relaxing as she hugged him.

"We should hurry, wouldn't want the wolves to catch us now, would we?"

He took Leta's hand and pulled her along. Though she still jumped at every small thing, eventually ending up glued to his arm.

He laughed. "You really don't like the full moon, do you?" he asked, looking down at her fondly.

Leta glowered at him. "Shut up."

"This time maybe I will consider it, darling."

They carried on, their footsteps entirely to loud for Leta's liking. It kept getting colder by the second as well, until Leta's teeth were chattering. Kol didn't seem affected by it in the least.

What seemed like hours later, (though in reality was only twenty minutes at the most), Leta began to get fed up. She was tired, she was scared, she was cold, and she was pretty sure Kol was going to take her deep into the woods and murder her.

"Are we there yet?" she whined, eyeing a particularly menacing bush.

"Almost," was his amused answer as he held a low hanging branch out of the way for her so she could walk under it. "And... we're here. Close your eyes."

They were standing in what seemed to Leta to be total and utter darkness, but she obeyed Kol when he told her to shut her eyes. She also felt his presence vanish as he walked away from her.

"K-Kol?" she stuttered.

"Just one moment, love," came his reply. It sounded like he was somewhere to her right. "I've been working on this for a week, perfecting it. I mean, it is pretty pointless, but I thought you would like it."

Light flared behind her eyelids, dancing in little colours. She felt his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs gently rubbing circles. Leta felt her cheeks flush crimson.

"Open your eyes," he breathed.

Lights twinkled like a million tiny fireflies, each a different colour from the next. They filled the air, making the small clearing they now stood in glow like the rainbow. They floated around her head, little balls of colour. In the centre of the clearing there was a fire burning and it seemed to fill the air with its warmth, though that may have been Kol's ego.

A surprised and delighted laugh burst from her lips and she clapped a hand to her mouth, smiling until it hurt. She was that happy.

"This is amazing, Kol," she whispered, her eyes sparkling as she turned to face him. He grinned down at her in return.

Far away Leta heard the wolves howling, snapping, snarling. Whether at someone, something, or each other she didn't know or care. Leta wasn't afraid anymore.

"I thought you'd like it," Kol told her.

Leta spun around once, taking it all in again. The lights, the way they cast brilliant shadows on the trees. Everything was breathtakingly beautiful.

"Are you kidding?" she asked, stopping to look at him and then turning away. "I love it." She laughed. Kol came and stood beside her. "Is this what you were doing out in the forest? Why you didn't come home at all a few nights ago?"

Kol nodded, pleased with himself. "It is indeed."

"Why? Why would you do this for me?"

Kol took a long time replying, though he had practiced these words over and over until he knew them off by heart. A lump had lodged in his throat.

"Because you are as beautiful as a forest nymph too me..."

Leta looked at him, her words faltering, "W-what?"

"I... I think I'm in love with you."

Everything froze, time stopped, the moment staying put. Leta's breath hitched in her throat as she tried to comprehend what he had just told her. Fear, joy, anger, happiness. Those four emotions flashed across her face in that second. She didn't know how to react, she had never really considered love before. She had always lived then and now, the only future being another fight with Mikael, another day with her friends, another day of not being a werewolf. She wasn't sure if she returned his feelings, she wasn't sure of anything.

"I... I..." she stammered.

Kol's dark brown eyes searched hers. The lights danced. It was all so perfect, so why was she so afraid? It was a simply yes or no, wasn't it?

Thankfully something saved her from answering, though that something was something she wished hadn't happened.

A scream pierced the air, so loud even Leta and Kol heard it, though they were quite far away from Mystic Falls. The scream was strangled, mixed with panic and desperation. It was a voice they both knew well, a voice they had grown up hearing. And something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

"MOTHER!"

The moment was shattered, and they both started running.

 **And so it begins...**


	10. Chapter 9

It was the early hours of the morning, the sun only just peaking over the hills. There werewolves were gathered there, human once again. They watched as the village of Mystic Falls started to wake, though Esther Mikaelson hadn't slept in the least. Neither had Finn or Mikael, who, for his part in taking Henrik's body, had merely picked him up and carried him around the back of their hut, leaving him there for Esther to cry over.

The leader of the wolf pack stood at the forefront, his arms folded. From a mile away you could have told he was the Alpha, all the others Beta's, with only two cowering Omega's right at the back.

The Alpha turned to them. His skin was dark, his head shaved of hair. His eyes were a deep black, his arms muscular, veins showing.

Ansel, the Alpha of the North-East Atlantic Pack, stepped forwards from the group of werewolves, his brown furrowed. "What are we going to do, Myron?" he asked.

Myron smiled, his teeth bright and completely clean. "We give them a day to bury their dead... And then... then we give them a trial for killing one of our own..."

Everyone in the village was acting strange that day, all felt the loss of Henrik like a stone had been placed in their chests. They moved slowly, heads bent and hands clasped in front of them. Even the youngest of the children seemed to sense that today was not a day for laughter.

Leta stood by herself, leaning against her house, her arms folded. She was watching as people went about their everyday jobs, each as silent and melancholy as the next. Only a few had offered to help in burying Henrik's body, one being the witch Iana. She was a woman of dark skin, her hair crinkling and falling to her shoulders in ebony black waves. She was known well in the village for her powers, and although Esther had once practiced magic to, she preferred not to speak of that time.

Leta had been charged with collecting wild flowers for Henrik's grave, but little to nothing grew around that time of year, just the purple vervain flowers at the base of the White Oak tree. This tree towered in the centre of the village, tall, its leaves forever green and fresh. The bark was a stark white, not unlike silver birch, but also quite different. Mystic Falls had been built around it.

The sun shone to brightly, hurting Leta's tired and weary eyes. They were red rimmed from her crying and her eyelids kept almost drooping closed until she were forced to splash water on her face to wake herself up again.

In her hand, Leta clutched a small bunch of the vervain, crushing the stems. This was all she could bring back for her dead friend and it infuriated her, made her want to scream and cry and run the wolf that had done this through with a sword. But she would never be able to do that, because he was already dead. Dead thanks to Henrik. Leta couldn't decide if she was happy that Henrik had thwarted the wolf or if she were sad that she herself would never get the chance to.

"Leta?"

Her head snapped up, her eyes finding the boy who had spoken. It was Elijah. He looked pale and wan, rings under his eyes. His clothes were amazingly neat however, and his fringe was tied back like it always was. He looked himself, though somehow his eyes were broken, empty, though still they shone with their old fire. It was his air of constant amusement; not in the way Kol was amused, the smirky, snarky, sarcastic way, but in a kind and gentle way. Elijah often seemed like he understood you more than you did yourself, like he could see straight into your heart and soul.

Leta tried a smile. It hurt her lips and it felt fake and untruthful so she dropped it immediately and nodded.

"Yes, Elijah?" she asked, her voice coming out odd and hollow, void of emotion almost.

Elijah stepped forward, looking down at her and giving her a small quirk of the lips. It was comforting.

"I can to see if you were alright. If... If you needed someone too talk to. If you needed anything at all."

Leta shook her head, an ache suddenly forming in her temples. She rubbed at it with the tips of her fingers, a frown creasing her brow. "No... No, I... I am the one who should be asking that. Henrik..." she said his name so easily it disturbed her, made her think she might be going insane. "He was-is still-your brother and, as such, I should be asking." She looked up at him and took a deep breath. "Elijah, what is it you are feeling?"

She knew she couldn't ask if he was alright because the answer would be no, Elijah had just lost his brother. It would take months to be alright again, months for them to be normal at all. If ever. There would always be an empty seat at the dinner table now where Henrik should have sat quietly eating, thinking and observing the others the way he had always loved to do. But no, he would never do that again...

Elijah looked down at his hands and blinked one too many times. "Please..." he murmured. "I... I cannot speak or it... I..."

Leta hugged him. "I understand, Elijah. Is there anything that still needs doing in preparation for the funeral?" Leta asked as she drew back, trying that smiled again. It worked a little better this time.

Elijah nodded. "Mother actually sent me to get you. She says that she needs to speak with your mother immediately. Do you know where Canna is?"

"Uh... No, I have not seen her since... well... since last night. I... I'm not sure. Sorry, Elijah," she said, her eyebrows drawing together as she tried her best to think.

"It is perfectly all right," he assured her gently, laying a hand on her upper arm.

The truth was, Canna had snuck away in the early hours of the morning, before even the wolves had been standing on the hill. She had gone to wait in a place she knew Myron would eventually turn up at. It was a secluded spot deep into the forest, where the shadows were long and everything seemed ominous. Crows cawed and thinks lurked. But Canna wasn't afraid of these things, she was on a mission and she needed to talk to Myron about it before he acted to drastically.

It had seemed hours until Myron showed up, clearly alone. And that had been when Canna had showed herself, though she was certain he must have sensed her presence already.

Being the widow of the former Alpha meant she knew things other people didn't, and that she was on excellent speaking terms with almost all of the pack. And it gave her leverage because she knew what was coming next. She knew there would be consciences for the Mikaelson's and her family alike. The wolves would not let this go unpunished. They would want revenge, and it would be bloody.

"What brings you here, Canna?" Myron asked calmly, not betraying the slightest hint of anything but that.

Canna tried her best to do the same, folding her hands in front of her. "I want to discuss something with you... Something important."

Myron laughed and shook his head. "If you are here to talk about your daughters heritage then there is no use. You knew what you were doing when you lay with a werewolf. I will not leave her just because you feign ignorance to the matter. You cannot change who she is, Canna. Now go home. I have a trial to prepare for."

Canna gave up trying, though really she had not tried at all, and started to make her way back to the village, leaving Myron standing over an unmarked grave, his head bent in mourning.

It was mid afternoon and Leta was sitting under the White Oak tree, her knees pulled up to her chest. The vervain flowers grew higher than her head, effectively hiding her from view. She could hear everyone moving around outside, their voices hushed.

She still felt angry that she could only bring Henrik vervain and nothing more. She could find nothing, not one single other flower. The frost had killed them all...

She couldn't seem to cry, like her tear ducts had dried out. It felt wrong not being able to cry for her friend, like she was somehow losing her ability to feel emotions. The ache in her chest assure her that this theory was not true however. It burned there like fire, cold and hot and heavy and painful. It wasn't right. She didn't want to feel this way, but she was also glad, because if it stopped hurting it would be far worse. She would feel bad for not feeling bad.

Let's didn't quite understand how that was supposed to make sense, but in her mind it did and that was all that mattered.

She still held the small bunch of vervain in her hand, was was wilting and dying, the crushed stems staining her palm green.

There was a rustling as someone approached her, weaving their way through the vervains purple flowers. And Canna knelt before her daughter.

Their eyes met for a moment, then she spoke, smiling sympathetically at Leta. "Honey, it's time to prepare for the funeral. Are you ready?"

Let's wasn't ready, but she nodded anyway, allowing Canna to take her hand and help her to her feet. Canna led her through Mystic Falls until they reached its edge where her ho she stood. She then turned to her and smiled.

"I know you have a rule about wearing dresses, but I have something I was saving for a special occasion, the day you were wed. But I think Henrik would have liked for you to wear it..."


	11. Chapter 10

It was the early hours of the morning, the sun only just peaking over the hills. There werewolves were gathered there, human once again. They watched as the village of Mystic Falls started to wake, though Esther Mikaelson hadn't slept in the least. Neither had Finn or Mikael, who, for his part in taking Henrik's body, had merely picked him up and carried him around the back of their hut, leaving him there for Esther to cry over.

The leader of the wolf pack stood at the forefront, his arms folded. From a mile away you could have told he was the Alpha, all the others Beta's, with only two cowering Omega's right at the back.

The Alpha turned to them. His skin was dark, his head shaved of hair. His eyes were a deep black, his arms muscular, veins showing.

Ansel, the Alpha of the North-East Atlantic Pack, stepped forwards from the group of werewolves, his brown furrowed. "What are we going to do, Myron?" he asked.

Myron smiled, his teeth bright and completely clean. "We give them a day to bury their dead... And then... then we give them a trial for killing one of our own..."

Everyone in the village was acting strange that day, all felt the loss of Henrik like a stone had been placed in their chests. They moved slowly, heads bent and hands clasped in front of them. Even the youngest of the children seemed to sense that today was not a day for laughter.

Leta stood by herself, leaning against her house, her arms folded. She was watching as people went about their everyday jobs, each as silent and melancholy as the next. Only a few had offered to help in burying Henrik's body, one being the witch Iana. She was a woman of dark skin, her hair crinkling and falling to her shoulders in ebony black waves. She was known well in the village for her powers, and although Esther had once practiced magic to, she preferred not to speak of that time.

Leta had been charged with collecting wild flowers for Henrik's grave, but little to nothing grew around that time of year, just the purple vervain flowers at the base of the White Oak tree. This tree towered in the centre of the village, tall, its leaves forever green and fresh. The bark was a stark white, not unlike silver birch, but also quite different. Mystic Falls had been built around it.

The sun shone to brightly, hurting Leta's tired and weary eyes. They were red rimmed from her crying and her eyelids kept almost drooping closed until she were forced to splash water on her face to wake herself up again.

In her hand, Leta clutched a small bunch of the vervain, crushing the stems. This was all she could bring back for her dead friend and it infuriated her, made her want to scream and cry and run the wolf that had done this through with a sword. But she would never be able to do that, because he was already dead. Dead thanks to Henrik. Leta couldn't decide if she was happy that Henrik had thwarted the wolf or if she were sad that she herself would never get the chance to.

"Leta?"

Her head snapped up, her eyes finding the boy who had spoken. It was Elijah. He looked pale and wan, rings under his eyes. His clothes were amazingly neat however, and his fringe was tied back like it always was. He looked himself, though somehow his eyes were broken, empty, though still they shone with their old fire. It was his air of constant amusement; not in the way Kol was amused, the smirky, snarky, sarcastic way, but in a kind and gentle way. Elijah often seemed like he understood you more than you did yourself, like he could see straight into your heart and soul.

Leta tried a smile. It hurt her lips and it felt fake and untruthful so she dropped it immediately and nodded.

"Yes, Elijah?" she asked, her voice coming out odd and hollow, void of emotion almost.

Elijah stepped forward, looking down at her and giving her a small quirk of the lips. It was comforting.

"I can to see if you were alright. If... If you needed someone too talk to. If you needed anything at all."

Leta shook her head, an ache suddenly forming in her temples. She rubbed at it with the tips of her fingers, a frown creasing her brow. "No... No, I... I am the one who should be asking that. Henrik..." she said his name so easily it disturbed her, made her think she might be going insane. "He was-is still-your brother and, as such, I should be asking." She looked up at him and took a deep breath. "Elijah, what is it you are feeling?"

She knew she couldn't ask if he was alright because the answer would be no, Elijah had just lost his brother. It would take months to be alright again, months for them to be normal at all. If ever. There would always be an empty seat at the dinner table now where Henrik should have sat quietly eating, thinking and observing the others the way he had always loved to do. But no, he would never do that again...

Elijah looked down at his hands and blinked one too many times. "Please..." he murmured. "I... I cannot speak or it... I..."

Leta hugged him. "I understand, Elijah. Is there anything that still needs doing in preparation for the funeral?" Leta asked as she drew back, trying that smiled again. It worked a little better this time.

Elijah nodded. "Mother actually sent me to get you. She says that she needs to speak with your mother immediately. Do you know where Canna is?"

"Uh... No, I have not seen her since... well... since last night. I... I'm not sure. Sorry, Elijah," she said, her eyebrows drawing together as she tried her best to think.

"It is perfectly all right," he assured her gently, laying a hand on her upper arm.

The truth was, Canna had snuck away in the early hours of the morning, before even the wolves had been standing on the hill. She had gone to wait in a place she knew Myron would eventually turn up at. It was a secluded spot deep into the forest, where the shadows were long and everything seemed ominous. Crows cawed and thinks lurked. But Canna wasn't afraid of these things, she was on a mission and she needed to talk to Myron about it before he acted to drastically.

It had seemed hours until Myron showed up, clearly alone. And that had been when Canna had showed herself, though she was certain he must have sensed her presence already.

Being the widow of the former Alpha meant she knew things other people didn't, and that she was on excellent speaking terms with almost all of the pack. And it gave her leverage because she knew what was coming next. She knew there would be consciences for the Mikaelson's and her family alike. The wolves would not let this go unpunished. They would want revenge, and it would be bloody.

"What brings you here, Canna?" Myron asked calmly, not betraying the slightest hint of anything but that.

Canna tried her best to do the same, folding her hands in front of her. "I want to discuss something with you... Something important."

Myron laughed and shook his head. "If you are here to talk about your daughters heritage then there is no use. You knew what you were doing when you lay with a werewolf. I will not leave her just because you feign ignorance to the matter. You cannot change who she is, Canna. Now go home. I have a trial to prepare for."

Canna gave up trying, though really she had not tried at all, and started to make her way back to the village, leaving Myron standing over an unmarked grave, his head bent in mourning.

It was mid afternoon and Leta was sitting under the White Oak tree, her knees pulled up to her chest. The vervain flowers grew higher than her head, effectively hiding her from view. She could hear everyone moving around outside, their voices hushed.

She still felt angry that she could only bring Henrik vervain and nothing more. She could find nothing, not one single other flower. The frost had killed them all...

She couldn't seem to cry, like her tear ducts had dried out. It felt wrong not being able to cry for her friend, like she was somehow losing her ability to feel emotions. The ache in her chest assure her that this theory was not true however. It burned there like fire, cold and hot and heavy and painful. It wasn't right. She didn't want to feel this way, but she was also glad, because if it stopped hurting it would be far worse. She would feel bad for not feeling bad.

Let's didn't quite understand how that was supposed to make sense, but in her mind it did and that was all that mattered.

She still held the small bunch of vervain in her hand, was was wilting and dying, the crushed stems staining her palm green.

There was a rustling as someone approached her, weaving their way through the vervains purple flowers. And Canna knelt before her daughter.

Their eyes met for a moment, then she spoke, smiling sympathetically at Leta. "Honey, it's time to prepare for the funeral. Are you ready?"

Let's wasn't ready, but she nodded anyway, allowing Canna to take her hand and help her to her feet. Canna led her through Mystic Falls until they reached its edge where her ho she stood. She then turned to her and smiled.

"I know you have a rule about wearing dresses, but I have something I was saving for a special occasion, the day you were wed. But I think Henrik would have liked for you to wear it..."


	12. Chapter 11

Leta was sat on the dirt floor of her home, her legs crossed as her mother rummaged in a chest, searching for the aforementioned dress. Canna was determined to ignore how strange her daughter was acting, knowing eventually she would go back to normal. There was no use in trying to speed up the grieving process, it would never work.

Leta sighed heavily as Canna straightened up, a pure white and simple dress in hr hands.

"Here you go... Put it on. I doubt anyone else will be able to dress up for the occasion, but Henrik would have wanted that, right?" she asked gently, kneeling in front of Leta and pushing the dress into her hands. The materiel was soft against Leta's hands, which were hardened from work, with thick skin, not the most attractive of hands. But that was what you got when you wanted to be anything but an ordinary housewife.

Leta's grey blue eyes met her mothers and for the first time since Henrik's death she managed to smile properly. Canna was right, Henrik would have said she were beautiful. He had always wanted to see her in a dress. Maybe he would be smiling down on her from heaven.

Sweat covered Niklaus's brow as he swung the shovel for what seemed like the millionth time that hour. It hit the hard earth, breaking off an infuriatingly small amount that Nik threw on the pile that now was as high as his waist. Kol worked silently beside him, not even glancing at his brother. His hair was falling across his face, her brow creased in concentration. Or so it seemed to Niklaus.

Kol was thinking, hard, unable to get the events of last night out of his mind. Everything had been so perfect; the lights, the warmth, the declaration of love. But the wolves had ruined it. They had destroyed everything. They had killed his brother. It felt to Kol as though they had stolen everything from him in one fleeting moment. It felt like he had blinked and missed it as the world was demolished.

Being charged with digging their little brothers grave was possibly the best thing. It kept their minds busy, kept them from becoming lifeless like Rebekah was. She sat motionlessly inside the hut, staring into space, waiting. Esther hadn't found something for her to do.

It did not take them long to finish digging the grave, leaving them both more exhausted than before.

Kol had not cried, but somehow that only made him feel more asleep, like he were walking in a dream rather than reality. But Niklaus had, though he kept it well hidden. He was good at keeping secrets about things that hurt him. He could thank Mikael for that.

Muscles aching, they both laid down their spades, unsure of what to do with themselves now. The emptiness that had been eclipsed by the exertion of shovelling dirt was now beginning to return.

Niklaus slumped uselessly to his knees, berrying his head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking with his silent tears. Kol put a hand on his brothers shoulder, tightening his fingers to let him know he wasn't alone in his pain.

"Where are the others?"

It was Leta who asked this. And at her words they both looked up to see one of the most beautiful creatures they had ever laid their eyes upon. In that moment, the nickname she had gained truly suited her. She really was the forest nymph.

The white dress transformed her. She didn't look like herself anymore. Gone were the mens clothes, gone as the dagger she liked to carry. And gone were the heavy boots she wore. Her hair was plaited intricately, the suns rays reflecting off of it. She had woven vervain flowers into her hair as well and carried the bunch she had picked earlier that day. Her skin was flawless, her eyes clear and not showing a hit of red. The white dress clung to her, accentuating her willowy figure. Its sleeves were long and it trailed down to her feet, covering them and making it hard to see what shoes she was wearing.

Kol was the first to unblock his vocal chords and say something. And when he did he stepped towards her. "Preparing... You look beautiful, Leta... but I fear it is not appropriate for..." he trailed off meaningfully.

Leta gave him a familiar role of the eyes, then smiled sympathetically. "I'll explain," she said unhelpfully. "I do not care if Mikael slices me open for doing this. Henrik would have appreciated it."

There was a very long silence, broken only by the sounds of nature around them.

Kol found himself laughing a little. It felt good. "Are you even wearing anything on your feet, darling?"

Leta shook her head. "Of course not... It would ruin it completely."

Esther arrived then, closely followed by Finn and Mikael. Elijah came last, Henrik's body in his arms. His face was set, but his eyes were slowly filling with tears. It broke Leta's heart to see her friend like that.

She blinked furiously to keep the tears away from her own eyes. She was determined not to ruin this for Henrik. Then she noticed the absence.

"Is Rebekah not coming?" she inquired in a soft voice.

Mikael gave her a look worthy of death as he stood t one side of the open grave. Leta still could not make out a shred of sadness in his face, not even his eyes betrayed his sorrow, if he had any at all. Leta shook her head. No, of course he felt his sons loss, Mikael was many things, but he was no sociopath. He did feel, and he did feel this. Leta was sure of it.

"I am here," Rebekah answered, stepping around the side of Elijah. She was dressed simply in her usual brown dress, her hair plaited back to keep it away from her face. Leta thought that considering Rebekah's paralysis, she was holding herself together very well.

Leta held out a hand to her, moving her fingers indicatively to hurry Bekah up. Rebekah slowly moved forwards and slipped her hand into Leta's. Leta gave her a small and sad comforting smile, seeing the true hollowness in Rebekah's blue eyes.

The sun was brightly, almost seeming disrespectful, though it remained hidden behind a thick layer of white clouds. The day had a biting chill to it, the winter air. Despite the cold, it was not unpleasant.

Leta closed her eyes as Elijah lowered Henrik's mutilated body into the hole in the ground and stepped back to stand beside her. She gripped his hand tightly in hers.

It was time, Leta knew it was, and she cleared her throat, letting go of her friends hands and stepping forwards so she was by the very edge of the grave. Then she turned to face them.

"Can I say something?" she asked them all, her eyes looking to each of the Mikaelson's in turn. Each gave some sign or another that signalled a yes. All except Mikael, who's black eyes bored into hers until she was forced to look away.

And she began to speak:

"Henrik once said to me that if he had one wish he would see me in a dress, looking more like the forest nymph you all say I am. He said he would be captivated by my beauty. I'm sure he was just saying that because I was upset at the time, but I do not mind. I promised him that one day I would do so... But that day never came, so I thought he would be pleased to know there was a forest nymph at his funeral. And that she was not planning on putting a spell on any of his brothers." Leta's lips quirked into a smile at the thought. "He used to listen to my problems. It did not matter how ridiculous... He would always give me a solution. He was always right... Always..." she trailed off, smiling as tears started to well in her eyes. "Of course I will still tell him my problems, he just won't be there to answer anymore. But I will always come to him. Always and Forever." I small sob escaped her lips as she turned to look upon Henrik's body, letting the vervain flowers fall from her hand and into the grave. "I love him like he is my little brother. That will not change."

She returned to Elijah's side, blocking out the world. She was dimply aware of the words the other spoke, but none of them stayed with her. In one ear and out the other, Canna would have said.

At long last, Leta felt a gentle nudge on her shoulder and she looked up, her clouded vision clearing until she found herself looking upon Kol. He had a hand extended to her, his eyes sad, but still a smirk playing upon his lips even his one of his darkest hours.

Leta bent down and took a handful of dirt, throwing it on Henrik's body. It was up to Mikael and Finn to do the grave, filling it in by pushing the pile of earth over the edge. They patted it down and then Niklaus laid a stone over where Henrik's head was. Leta didn't read what had been craved on it.

She just closed her eyes and turned away, letting Kol put her arm around her and pull her to his side. She closed her eyes. And that wa when a shadow fell over them all.

"Do not panic, we have come seeking justice. You killed one of our own, now there is a trial to be had. Please, follow me without protest and you shall not be harmed."

Leta had met the owner of that voice only once at her fathers funeral and it chilled her to her very core. Grief was replaced by fear a she opened her eyes and saw him standing before her.


	13. Chapter 12

_Leta was just old enough to understand what was going on as she stood by her fathers grave, surrounded by people she did not know. She wasn't crying, she was silent and watchful, her eyes clear and innocent. At age six, her golden hair already reached down to her waist in pure and shimmering waves. She had her hands twisted together in front of her. She was very small._

 _As Leta looked up at everyone, who seemed like giants to her then, Leta thought that it must be strange to be so tall, that there must be something odd going on. Why would anyone want to become that big? They wouldn't be able to crawl under bushes or climb on the thinest branches of the trees. Or catch the butterflies because they would scare them away with their big shadows. Leta's shadow was only little, so little the butterflies never saw it._

 _She looked down at her shadow now, in front of her because of the angle of the sun. It was funny looking, the hair wilder than it actually was, her hands oddly distorted._

 _With all the thinking about shadows, Leta found she suddenly felt like a butterfly when the shadow of a man was cast over her. He was very tall when she tried to look up at him. His skin was dark and he had no hair at all, which Leta thought was strange. All his clothes seemed neat and orderly, the exact opposite of what you would expect in a werewolf Alpha, though Leta had no idea what he was yet. His teeth were the purest of white when he smiled down at her, crouching so they were on the same level._

 _"Hello, you must be Leta," he said, extending his hand for her to shake. She carefully took three of his fingers in her tiny fist and moved her hand up and down, looking shy._

 _"Yes," she answered, wondering if it were polite to just stare at him or if she should just not look at all._

 _He chuckled deeply-his voice was very deep. "I am Myron, the leader of the pack your father was a part of. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Your father, Jonas, spoke of you often," Myron informed her, still smiling. Leta thought she would get blinded by his teeth if she didn't watch out, but she didn't really understand all the other things he had been saying._

 _"Pack?" she asked, frowning at him._

 _Myron adjusted himself so he were crouching in a more comfortable position. "The pack of werewolves."_

 _Leta had heard of werewolves only in the few bedtime stories her father had told her. They were men who changed into beasts on the full moon, people who were to be feared around that time. When they changed they lost control and became monsters, he had said. Leta had never thought they were real, but now that she had been told they were, she wasn't afraid, she was just interested._

 _"Father told me stories of werewolves. Were they about you?" was her first question._

 _Myron laughed and shook her head. "I doubt it, Leta. They were most likely something your father told you in order to get you to sleep." His face suddenly became grave, his dark brown eyes thoughtful. "I must admit, I am surprised you did not know about what your father was... Considering it is what you yourself are destined to be, I would have thought he had told you."_

 _"Myron, what are you doing?" a harsh voice demanded, and Leta looked up to see her mother standing over them, her eyes blazing._

 _"You haven't told her about her heritage," he answered calmly._

 _There was a lot of shouting after that, especially between Canna and Myron. Leta could never remember what was said, but it had been yelling and Canna crying and Myron and the other werewolves taking his side, saying that she should have been told years ago, that she should have grown up knowing her 'heritage'. They kept calling it that funny word. Heritage..._

Back in present day, Leta was looking upon the man who had once caused her mother such anger, the man who had told her what she really was. He had been truthful with her when her mother had not. And although Leta was glad he had told her, she still feared him more than anything on the earth.

Myron was the Alpha of the Crescent Pack. He was powerful, had been collecting stray werewolves for years now. That was why his pack was of all shapes and sizes, varying skin tones and accents.

No one actually knew where Myron had come from, only that he had been living in the village for almost forty years and didn't look a day over thirty.

Myron clasped his hands together, chuckling at them all. "Hello, Mikaelson's... and Leta," he greeted them all, an unsettling smile stretching across his face.

Mikael took a seething step forwards. "How dare you come here! Come here after one of your abominations killed my son!" Spit flew from his mouth as he shouted.

Without thinking, Leta reached forwards and gripped Mikael's arm tightly, warning him. His head snapped around so he was glaring at her and she shook her head slightly from side to side.

Leta expected Mikael to yank his arm free and punch Myron, beat him until their way nothing left, treat him as he treated Niklaus, but he didn't. Mikael simply looked at her and she saw something she never thought she would see in his eyes. Something soft and relenting, like he had just given up a tiny bit. And to her even greater surprise, Mikael backed off, losing his fighters stance and putting an arm protectively around Esther's waist. And for the first time Leta wondered if maybe she was wrong about Mikael Mikaelson, if maybe, just maybe, he wasn't quite as bad as he seemed. But the moment their eyes met she knew that she was only fooling herself, he was a monster and there was no way she would ever be able to fix him, not that she particularly wanted to try.

Leta knew why Myron was here: he wanted his sick revenge for Henrik killing one of his pack. He would not let this go easily.

"Are you really subjecting us to a trial for something our brother did?" Kol snapped suddenly.

Leta felt her insides crumbling as her friends dug themselves into as deep a grave as the one they had just filled in.

Myron held up a finger and smiled mockingly. "When I say trial I should have been a tad more specific, perhaps not lying as well would have helped. But not that that matters at all anymore."

Leta felt her heart pounding loudly in her ears. She blinked fast, trying to stop tears and stop herself from throwing up in her terror. This was not happening.

"What do you mean?" Elijah asked, frowning in his confusion.

"I mean," Myron began, taking a very deliberate step forwards so he were looking directly into Elijah's eyes. "Your families fate was sealed the moment your little brother Henrik drove that sword through my lefthand mans chest." His words were spoken in a hushed and threatening manner, getting angrier by the second. It was a cold and cool anger, which somehow made it all the more scary.

"NO!" Leta shouted, moving so she stood between Myron and Elijah. She stared defiantly up at the Alpha, her eyes set and stony. "They have lost as you have lost, Myron! You cannot blame Henrik for defending himself against the wolf that attacked him. Do you not see that shedding more blood will leave you more unhappy then you are now." She gestured to the Mikaelson's. "Please."

Myron shook his head. "The decision has been made, Leta. There is no turning back," he told her.

Leta shook her head. "No. No, this is not the right way."

"There is no right way, girl!" he yelled suddenly, seizing her by the shoulders and shaking her violently. There was cry of protest from Niklaus, Elijah, Rebekah, Kol, and Finn.

Leta smiled sadly at him, casting her eyes to the sky. "Does Ansel agree with you?" she asked, smirking at him. An odd calm had stolen over her. She didn't care if she lived or died, not that she thought he was going to kill her.

Myron cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. "He strongly disagrees, but that is his way. He is not part of my pack, he does not get a say."

Leta could tell she was losing this rather strange argument, so she played her final card. "Do you realise what would hurt them far more than that?"

Myron didn't answer that for a very long time, obviously attempting to figure out what she was getting at before she said it.

"What?" he demanded at long last. She could tell he was impatient.

Leta leaned in and whispered in his ear, "It hurts more to live with loss that die and not have to."

Myron gave a small laugh, taking his hands away from her shoulders and stepping back to a respectful distance. Niklaus and Kol both rushed to Leta's side, checking to see if she were okay, but she brushed them off like they were flies, keeping her sea grey eyes fixed on Myron, who was still chuckling at her words.

"Leta, what did you say to him?" Niklaus asked earnestly.

Myron interrupted her before she could reply. "You have quite the devious mind, Leta. I like it." He wagged a finger at her, grinning like the devil.

Leta waited breathlessly for the verdict, her lips pressed together in an effort not to start biting them.

And then... "Very well, Leta, I will be lenient just this once, if only to indulge our new pack member," Myron said, turning away and motioning for those he had brought with him to follow.

It was like a brick had been smacked into her stomach. "What did you say?"

Myron turned back to face her, a pleasantly surprised smile playing on his lips. "Your mother still insists on keeping you in the dark I see."

Let stepped forward, her fists clenching. "Keeping me in the dark about what?" she asked, dread soaking in to her heart.

Myron smiled again. "We need a new member to replace the one we have lost. You, my darling Leta, are the perfect answer. By the next full moon, you shall be one of us. Enjoy the little time you have left of being human, Miss Mitchell."


	14. Chapter 13

"You never thought to tell me that when a wolf died I would be the one taking their place!" screamed Leta, bursting through the door and slamming Canna against the wall. Her fists wound into the fabric of her mothers collar, pinning her there. Angry tears were welling in her eyes.

"What?" Canna demanded, wincing.

Leta gave a bitter laugh, the first tear sliding down her cheek. "You always keep me in the dark," she muttered, her lips curling her eyes rolling.

Canna looked shocked. "I was only trying to protect you, Leta. Because I love you."

Leta pulled her away from the wall and shoved her up against it again so Canna's head smacked it with a sickening thud, but Leta didn't care.

"Do not tell me you did it to protect me! You have always kept me in the dark, every since I was a child! Well, I am not a child anymore, Mother! I deserved to know this!"

She let go of Canna and marched across the room, tugging the purple vervain blossoms from her hair and flinging them down. Her plait was slowly coming undone, golden strands of hair sticking out of it at all angles.

When Leta had heard the news from Myron she hadn't paused to think, she hadn't asked him again, she had simply taken off running. The others had shouted for her, she was sure Kol or Niklaus had even given chase, but someone-she suspected Mikael-had forced them to stop.

She hadn't thought about what she would say to her mother, or about her dead friend, or about anything but how angry and afraid she was right at that moment. It was what fuelled her, drove her to be as she was.

Leta was facing away from Canna, her chest heaving with rage. Her shoulders rose and fell rapidly.

A hand touched her upper arm softly, feather light and leathery feeling. "I was only thinking of you, Leta," Canna murmured, her mouth dangerously near Leta's ear.

That was what pushed Leta over the edge, made her whirl around, striking out. Her hand made contact with Canna's face and she stumbled back, one hand to her cheek. Canna's eyes met Leta's and she burst into tears.

"Do not cry and snivel before me!" Leta yelled, spit flying from her mouth as she advanced on Canna. "I had a right to know these things! It is my heritage and you should not have kept something like this to yourself!" She raised her hand to strike again, bringing it down with such force it was a wonder she didn't make contact.

Strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, yanking her back. Arms snaked round her waist, holding her to someones chest, though she kicked and struggled and screamed and cried. They never released her, but one single voice was there, telling her everything would be all right. It was a pity she didn't believe him. Not even her best friend could console her now. It felt like the world was truly coming apart around her ears that day. It wasn't possible for her to mend after this.

Eventually she became exhausted, her head hanging low, her chest rising and falling fast, her throat dry and her eyes sore from crying. She rested her head back against Niklaus' chest and sighed heavily. Her anger still burned, but now it no longer roared, instead sitting there like hot coals, able to burn you at a single touch, but would do no damage if sat near.

Canna stood in front of her, her arms crossed, her face a mask of cool fury. "That is precisely why I have never told you. because despite how sweet you may seem on the surface, Leta, you are a werewolf and with that comes a terrible rage. It can take over you, make you a monster, make you worse than Mikael."

That was what truly brought Leta back from the brink, made her eyes widen and her anger drain away. The blood left her cheeks, turning her a stark white as she started at her mother. Niklaus said nothing at all.

"I am nothing like him..."

"The werewolf in you says otherwise."

Let hung her head, ashamed of her actions. She would never admit it, but something in her mothers words was completely right.

"Nik, you can let me go now. I am okay," she assured him.

It was several seconds before he loosened his hold on her however, stepping back and watching her warily. Leta didn't look at him, her eyes never left her mothers face. A single tear rolled down her cheek and she swallowed.

"I can never forgive you for this. You lied to me like I was once again six years old. Do not expect me to come home tonight, Canna." Her voice was hollow, her eyes empty.

Canna said nothing in reply, but she nodded her head once before turning and leaving. The door slammed loudly behind her, echoing in the silence that was left in her wake.

Leta didn't speak either, picking up a bag from the floor and swiftly finding the things she would need. She had to get out of that room, that house that she could never call hers anymore. She would not become a werewolf, she would run, run as far and as fast as she could. Better spend her days like that than being a part of the pack.

"Leta, what are you doing?" Nik asked anxiously, trying to make her stop packing and look at him. But she just pulled away and grabbed her clothes from where she had left them when she had changed into her dress.

"Niklaus, turn around or get out," she snapped over her shoulder, beginning to pull the dress over her head.

She heard Nik 'oh' of surprise and assumed he had turned around as she had said. And she quickly stripped off and climbed into the clothes she felt comfortable in. When she was done she untied her hair and let it fall down over her shoulders and to her waist. It was crinkled from the plait and made her hair wavy, only enhancing the way she looked like a forest nymph.

"You can look now, Nik," Leta told him, her tone gentle.

By the time he had turned to face her again, she was already back to packing. She quickly wrapped bread and cheese and some other assorted food items up in a square of cloth, tying it up with a piece of string she had helped her mother weave from the stems of stinging nettles.

"Leta, what are you going to do?" Niklaus asked, more persistent than before.

Leta didn't stop as she answered, "I'm running, Nik. It is all I can do."

"No! Please, Leta, you cannot leave me! You cannot leave here. You are my best friend-"

Leta paused, looking up into his face and cupping it in her hands. "And I yours, Nik," she whispered, letting go.

"Then why not stay and face what you are! There is no use in running because in time everything will only catch up to you and then you will have wasted your life!" Niklaus reasoned, moving closer to her and gesturing with his hands.

Leta ignored him as she rammed clothes into her satchel and then tied it closed. She slung her bow and arrow across her back and then picked up two thick blankets from the foot of her bed, making sure to tie them tightly to her pack. Then she put that on her back and slipped the small dagger she had taken from her father so long ago into its sheath, strapping it around her waist. The she finally turned and looked at Niklaus.

"I am sorry, Nik, but I will not become one of them," she told him firmly. "Now please let me leave. I do not wish to part with you on bad terms."

She kissed him on the cheek and slipped past him, putting her hand on the doorknob and turning it. Cold air whooshed inside, sending goosebumps erupting over her skin.

"Please, Leta... Do not leave me..." Niklaus begged, a tear slipping down his cheek. His dark blue eyes were shining.

Leta sniffed and shook her head, her hair blowing in the wind. "Tell the others I am sorry." She closed her eyes and then opened them again. "Tell Kol that I am sorry..."

And before Niklaus could do or say anything more, she had closed the door behind her and begun to run into the forest. The cold bit at her exposed skin, freezing the tips of her ears and nose.

The sun had just started to dip below the horizon, so the warmth that it had brought was now completely gone. As soon as she reached the spot, she dropped to her knees and crawled along on her knees. Twigs snagged at her hair as Leta pushed her way through the undergrowth, brambles scratching her face and arms until she reached the other side. She straightened up and began to run again.

Leta knew that if she continued heading that way she would eventually find the ocean, and from there she was sure she could find a way to sail to some far off distant land where no one would ever know who she was. That was a good plan, wasn't it?

It was getting hard to see now, so Leta had to concentrate on what was in her path, avoiding trees and branches. But her muscles were aching and she was beginning to down. Almost walking.

"Where are you going, Miss Mitchell?"

Leta jumped and stumbled away, tripping over a root and sprawling on her back, the satchel making it painfully uncomfortable.

Myron stepped forwards and extended one, long fingered hand to her. A grin stretched across his lips, his teeth practically shining in the darkness.

"Do you need a hand in running away?" he asked.

And those words were enough to scare Leta more than Mikael scared Niklaus.


	15. Chapter 14

Myron pulled Leta to her feet. His grip on her upper arm was like steel, hurting her. She thought her bones were about to crack, but she didn't let him see her discomfort.

"You cannot run from your heritage, Leta. It is a part of who you are," Myron told her, forcing her to walk along side him. She had trouble keeping up because of his long legs and the way he was holding her arm.

"Why do you keep calling it that?" she demanded angrily, dragging her feet across the ground in an effort to slow his pace. But it was all to no avail, Myron simply continued striding along. "Heritage!" Leta continued. "Heritage is nothing if you do not want it!" she protested, tugging at the fingers that were wrapped round her arm, but they were like pincers and would not move.

"No, Leta," Myron began, his voice calm, peaceful, but at the same time she could hear the cool anger there. It was terrifying. "Heritage is something you should cherish, something you should take as if it were the most gracious gift on earth. You would never run away from your destiny, would you, Leta?" he asked, his voice hardening. He yanked her roughly forward just for the purpose of hurting her, or that was what it seemed like to Leta.

"Heritage. It is stupid and foolish and I do not wish to have it. Take anyone else! But not me! You have enough wolves in your pack, I do not belong with them!" she shrieked, her foot catching on something and twisting sharply in a way that it shouldn't.

"Once you are a werewolf you will not get that," Myron snapped. "You will no longer get ill or injured. You will not have to worry about infection or disease. Everything will be easier."

Limping now, Leta scoffed. "You do not seem to realise that I do not care about it! I would pick my own lying mother over you! I would pick Mikael!"

Myron laughed as he brought her down a steep bank. It made her ankle sting. "You would choose Mikael Mikaelson over your true family," he chuckled, shaking his head.

Leta laughed bitterly, even going as far as to spit on the ground. "I would choose death over being a werewolf."

Myron said nothing after that, just towed her along with him. Her stumbling footsteps were the only sound as Myron's own feet seemed to glide, barely touching the earth. Her ankle was getting worse, she could tell. It was throbbing. Leta had to wonder how bad it was hurt.

Eventually they reached the edge of the village, and Myron looked down upon it, while Leta felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She wasn't getting out of this...

Myron smirked at her. "You are full of talk, Leta Mitchell, but there is no way you can get out of this. It does not matter what you want, it is for the good of the pack and that is all. You are one of us." He looked at her, his eyes stern. "And if you try escape again, you will get no further than the Wolf Cliff. So I would not suggest trying."

He released her, taking a step back and nodding his head to say goodbye. Then he was gone and Leta was left shivering back where she had started, staring down at the village she no longer wanted to call home.

Slowly the tears started falling, thick and fast, and eventually becoming a downpour. She slid to her knees like she had just the other night a little ways at the bottom of the slope. Her hands shook and her sobs were louder than she wanted them to be. She was sure someone would hear her and come to investigate, only to find a sad little forest nymph who couldn't be helped.

Everything that had happened in the past two days weighed down on her chest like a mountain was there and it was slowly crumbling. Henrik's death, the threat from the pack, then what was going to happen to her. It was all to much. And she broke.

Suddenly she had to get away, so she staggered to her feet, her heart thudding, her blood pulsing loudly in her ears. Her vision was clouded, her hair falling over hr face. She let the satchel slip from her shoulders and hit the round, the same went for the bow and arrows. She threw them away from her, not seeing where they went. And then she ran again, this time heading somewhere else. She wasn't running away from the werewolves this time, she was running to a place where she felt safe.

When Leta reached the clearing Kol had taken her to, she fell to her knees again and then so she was curled into a ball on the frosted forest floor. She wasn't sure how long she lay there for, maybe a few hours, but it felt a whole lot longer. She didn't feel the cold, not really. But she didn't sleep, she couldn't, she just lay there, thinking, thinking, thinking. The same thoughts kept going round and round in her head like a bird of prey as it circles its next kill. With each thought she got closer to an answer, with each thought she got closer to the truth of what she had to do.

And a small idea started to formulate...

The night was almost over and yet still Leta felt the ache in her chest, the dried tear tracks that ran down her face, and the grass of the glade against her bare arms, the crescent moon casting a pale light over her almost iridescent white skin. She lay with her back on the soft green blades of grass, looking up into the clear sky, full of stars. It all looked so alive to her now. So, so alive now that he was dead. Wasn't that wrong? she thought. Wrong that she saw everything so vividly now that someone she had loved had passed into the great beyond. She felt like the world should be grey right now, not so bright and green and fresh.

It was wrong that she had to become what she did not want to, but that was the way of the world, she reasoned. There would never be anything she could do about it... right?

A shadow fell over her, bringing her back to the pain, sudden and brutally real, and a voice spoke...

"It is time, Leta," Myron's voice was deep and heavily accented and sent a chill down her spine despite the warmth of the night and the oncoming dawn. Why was it warm? Winter had arrived and yet she felt warm... Dew was settling over the clearing and it made the grass cool, cleansing almost. But she still felt empty.

"Time for what?" she asked blankly, gazing up at him. She wasn't interested in anything anymore. She didn't care what happened. She just wanted to lie there and forget the world. She wanted the world to turn grey, the colour it should be now that he was dead. Now that her fate was decided for her by someone she hardly knew, because of a bloodline she wished did not exist.

The mans eyes, black pits in the darkness, found hers, locking onto them. He smiled at her as he knelt down, one arm balanced on his knee. She could see his pearl white teeth glint. There was a gold ring on his finger, inlayed with a black stone. The mark of the wolf pack that called the village home. And as he smiled down at her, something broke through the haze-fear. Of him, of what he was about to tell her. Of something she couldn't explain. She knew she wasn't ready, but she knew she had no choice...

But she did have her idea, and that was something. If only she found a way to act it out, to get away, if only for a few minutes to ask her...

"Time for you to become a full member of the pack. Come, you have a day to prepare for the ceremony."

A day was all she would need, a day would give her plenty of time.

Fifteen words-Immeasurable, unbearable pain. Break every bone, every full moon, for the rest of your life.

She wasn't ready for that...

Myron helped her to her feet and nodded approvingly at her. "Say your goodbyes to your family and your friends. You cannot see them after tonight. Always and Forever is not something that lasts. It is the dreams of a foolish girl. But now you have grown and you know what you must do," Myron murmured to her, putting one hand on her cheek.

"Never see them again?" Leta echoed incredulously, not letting her eyes betray anything. Her face remained expressionless.

Myron smiled gently. "Didn't you know? When you become a werewolf you leave the village and you join the pack, live with us in the forest on the other side of the Wolf Cliff. That is where our community thrives." Myron pointed in the direction of where he was talking about. "It is quite a quaint little place, never silent and never lonely. You would like it."

Leta tried to smile, nodding her head in vague agreement. "Yes, maybe..."

Myron clapped her on the back. "Go, get ready for the ceremony, meet me back here when you are done."

Leta turned away from Myron, beginning to walk back towards the village. The moment she was sure he couldn't see her anymore, Leta broke into a run. She was tired of running, but she didn't stop. She didn't know how long she had to act, didn't know if her idea would work. If it didn't then Leta was truly going to have to accept her fate, but right now, as she ran down the slope and into the village, she wasn't going to do any such thing.

Gasping for air, her breath pluming in front of her, Leta raced through Mystic Falls until she reached the hut she was headed to. She didn't pause to catch her breath, hammering loudly on the door, forgetting that she might wake the village folk.

It was answered by someone with long blonde hair. She looked shocked to see Leta on her doorstep, trying to breathe evenly again.

"Esther, I pray that you will help me for I am in great need of a miracle."


	16. Chapter 15

Esther Mikaelson was completely thrown by Leta showing up on her doorstep just as dawn was arriving. Leta was dishevelled from having lain in the grass all night, crying, running, and being dragged back to Mystic Falls by Myron. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were muddied, and she was gasping to catch her breath.

"Leta, whatever is the matter?" Esther asked in a hush whisper, her eyes wide and bright. She looked very worried.

Leta was bent over, her hands on her knees, her wheezing filling the air, so it was a few minutes until she could answer. "I... Need... Your... Help..." she said through shaky breaths. Sweat was sticking her hair to her forehead.

"Leta... I am a little busy, could you come back later?"

Leta frowned. "It is barely dawn, Esther, what-That is not important, I need your help. You used to practice magic. I need a way to get out of becoming a werewolf."

Esther opened her mouth and shook her head a little, still looking baffled and confused. "I... I am afraid I do not follow you..."

Leta straightened up and grabbed Esther by the shoulders and began shaking her. "You are a witch, are you not?" she snapped as Esther pulld away.

"Of course I am."

"Then you can do spells?"

"Of course I can!"

Leta nodded, then smiled. Then she appeared to calm down somewhat, thinking hard.

"Leta... what is going on?" Esther asked gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Leta blinked and sighed. "No... No, I am not. I do not wish to become a werewolf. I would have gone to Ayana, but I fear she would agree with the wolves. I know that you will at least side with me. You might at least understand..."

When opportunity presents itself, you should always take it before said opportunity vanishes. Esther knew this and planned on using Leta's plea just like that. So she nodded, smiling faintly at Leta as her mind raced, formulating ideas and other plans.

"Of course I shall help you," she told Leta, ushering her inside with a wave of her hand.

Leta hesitated on the threshold, wary of entering and seeing her friends again. What if they tried to stop her? Worse, what if Mikael didn't allowed Esther to aid her in her self-appointed, self-preservative mission? Big words, but they described it all very well and Leta understood them and that was all that mattered to her. Though she wasn't entirely sure why she was thinking about words at a time like this. She should be thinking about far more important things. Like how she was going to explain what had happened to Myron, and how she was going to defend herself against his rage. Not to mention trying to take on one-maybe both-of the wolf packs for what she had done. Then she would also probably have to protect Esther for having been the one to help her.

It seemed the list of things she hadn't planned out was becoming taller than the White Oak tree, so Leta shoved it all to the back of her mind and focused on the immediate problem; binding her werewolf side. Permanently.

She looked back at Esther nervously. "I do not want the others to know... At least not yet..."

Esther smiled. "They are not here, Leta. They have been out, searching for you since Niklaus last saw you. Kol was particularly devastated." She lowered her eyes. The idea of Kol being devastated seemed to both trouble and confuse her.

Kol. What was Leta to do about Kol Mikaelson? Surely she could not let him get mixed up in this. She did not wish for any of her friends to feel the repercussions of her actions. But he had said that he loved her and Leta knew she could no sooner ignore being thrown into a fiery volcano than she could ignore that.

"Leta if you wish for my help I do suggest you hurry. I am guessing the wolves will not be very happy about this?" Esther said, bringing her back from her thoughts.

She shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind and nodded. "I dare say they may try and kill me after this, but I will die knowing they never got me as a part of their pack," she told Esther, her face tinged with a sad little smile. Her eyes were filled with sorrow.

Leta quickly stepped inside, Esther following and closing the door behind her, turning to look at Leta. She folded her arms and scrutinised her heavily.

"What?" asked Leta, bringing her arms out from her sides and letting them fall back down again.

"I was not expecting to see you again, Leta." Mikael stepped from the shadows, his hands folded in front of him. His dirty blond hair fell around his shoulders, his fringe pulled back. His dark eyes were stony.

Leta pulled a 'well' face, faking sympathy. "Well, I guess you are sorely disappointed, Mikael," she told him, tilting her head to the side as she turned to him. "Sorry," she said sarcastically.

"Get out," was Mikael's cool answer as he moved forward. He pointed to the door, the muscles in his arm standing out like white on black. It was oddly unnerving.

"Now now, Mikael," Esther cut in, coming between the two of them and placing a hand on both of their chests. She pushed Leta and Mikael apart with more force than they had expected. Leta stumbled a little and Mikael merely moved one foot behind the other. It was nimble, talented, quick, and Leta respected that. It was an interesting way and she intended to find a way to use it in the future. Possibly even against the great Mikael Mikaelson himself.

"I am here for Esther's help," Leta interjected, moving around Esther so she could look Mikael straight in the eyes. "Just for this once can we put aside our... mutual loathing for one another?" Leta asked earnestly, holding out her hand to him.

Mikael regarded it with a look of distaste, but with a glance at Esther he reluctantly accepted, gripping Leta's fingers a little harder than he needed to, and shaking. His hand was rough, calloused from fighting.

When he released her hand, Leta finally looked around the room. In most senses it looked the same as it always had, but this time there was a new piece of furniture that Leta hadn't seen before. A small, wooden table. But that wasn't what caught Leta's attention. It was what was on the table that interested her. Items she didn't understand. There were several bundles of herbs; sage, vervain, even a stick of the White Oak tree. An empty clay pestle and mortar stood next to these. Several strange powders were in small heaps on a chopping board, and a silver dagger lay gleaming in the light of the candles that were burning. The fire was alight and flickering, filling the hut with warmth, but a shiver still went through Leta. That table was ominous. She could just sense it.

She turned to Esther, a frown appearing upon her forehead, one hand rising to point at the table. "Were you doing magic already?" she asked incredulously, a little anger in her eyes. She felt slightly worried now. What did it mean?

Esther blew out her cheeks slowly. "Yes... I was preparing a protection spell for the house, incase the wolves decided to come back," Esther said, kneeling before the table and picking up the knife. "But now..." She raised the blade and drew it across her palm. "Now I can-with your help-assist you in your plight. Please come here. Mikael, fetch my grimoire and get me what I need."

Leta obeyed her, kneeling down on the opposite side of the table and putting her hands in her lap. She watched Esther curiously as she worked, her fear momentarily forgotten as she watched the spell being prepared.

Esther worked quietly, letting her blood drip onto the table.

Leta had missed it before, but now she saw the pentagram Esther had made out of salt. Not a large one, just small enough to fit on the table.

"Give me your hand, Leta. I hope you won't object to a little cut."

Before Leta could say anything, Esther had already cut a line in her palm and held her hand over the salt star. Leta's blood dripped and sizzled on the wood. The pain was sharp, but only lasted a few seconds before it was almost unnoticeable. Leta never made a sound.

Mikael laid an old and worn looking book next to Esther and stood back respectfully. He then moved away, searching through the chests for whatever it was Esther needed. He returned with an assortment of items that Leta had no idea of their uses or what they were. Some were herb, some were strange pendants, and some looked to be... well, Leta had absolutely no clue.

Leta held the hem of her shirt on her bleeding hand, in an attempt to stop the flow or blood. The cut wasn't deep, but it soaked through the thin, white material. Soon it was bright crimson, but Leta hardly noticed.

Esther had opened the grimoire and started muttering strange words underneath her breath. Between these words she said to Leta, "I hope you understand that once you have drank the mixture I am about to make, there is no going back. And I will want a bowlful of your blood. It is all the payment I require."

Leta thought this was an odd request, but nodded all the same. What difference did it make to her if Esther had her blood?

Esther proceeded in her work, chanting and adding things to the mortar; herbs, powders, salt, and eventually some of her own and Leta's blood.

Leta was beginning to feel sick watching the strange sludge-like concoction being stirred by Esther's fingers. She was starting to feel scared as well, almost on the verge of regretting her decision. But now quite. Her vision started to blur as she did her best to not see anything. And that was when she heard the chanting had stopped. The room was silent but for her breathing.

"Leta." It was Esther's voice. "Drink this."

Esther came into focus, holding the mortar filled with whatever it was that was in there. It looked like something that had come out of the wrong end of a pig to Leta, but she accepted the bowl and brought it to her lips, trying to not taste or feel the texture of Esther's potion. It was foul, and Leta gagged as she set the bowl down the the table, coughing. Her eyes were squeezed tight shut.

"Mikael now!"

That was the last thing Leta heard before she felt the pain. Someone had stabbed a sword through her heart. Blackness closed over her. She hadn't even had a chance to scream.

She died...

But then she lived...


	17. Chapter 16

Everything was a strange blue colour. The walls, the floor, even the dancing flames of the fire were tinged a strange blue. Things were eerily quiet as well, with everything echoing back to Leta's ears like she was very far away.

She was standing next to Esther and Mikael who were knelt beside a body. In one hand Mikael held a sword, the blade coated in fresh blood. It dripped onto the girls face, running down her cheek and across her lips. And with a jolt, Leta realised it was her body. Her face had drained completely of colour, one hand still over the bleeding wound. She had fallen sideways so her head now rested on the floor. Her shirt was a deep, dark red now, almost entirely soaked through. Her eyes were closed. Her blonde hair was dishevelled, but she still looked beautiful. It was the first time really understood why they called her the forest nymph.

But if that was her lying on the floor then how was she standing there in the room? How was she in two places at once?

"Esther, what did you do?" she asked faintly, feeling sick.

Esther paid her no heed, not even glancing up at the girl who stood next to her. It was like Leta had never even uttered a sound.

"Esther!" she snarled, her fists clenching in her anger and confusion. "What have you done?"

Again, Esther ignored her, speaking in a low, careful voice to Mikael, who was wiping the blade of the sword on a cloth to clean it. They were speaking to quietly for Leta to hear what they were saying, but Mikael was nodding in agreement to something, his dark blond hair swaying.

"Of course," he muttered, standing and leaning the sword against one of the walls. He turned to Esther. "What now?"

"Now we wait for her to wake again. We take some of her blood and we protect the others using it. That is all we can do."

Leta stepped directly in front of the witch. "Are you blind? I am right here before you!" she cried, waving a hand an inch from Esther's face. It was as if she had done nothing at all. Esther only blinked and walked forwards, straight through Leta.

Leta jumped backwards, giving a shriek of surprise and fear. She looked down at her torso, placing both hands on it to feel if she was still solid. It seemed she was, at least to herself if no longer to others.

She whirled around to stare, aghast at Esther. "What the bloody hell?" she hissed, glaring. "What have you done to me you evil, lying, deceitful, cowardly, hag?"

Despite her insults, Esther still didn't hear her, making her more frustrated but the second. Leta couldn't understand what was going on. Tears leaped to her eyes, but she set her lips in a thin line and strode over to Mikael, bringing her hand up and making to slap him across the face. Her fingers passed straight through his cheek. He didn't even flinch.

Leta gave a shout of rage and kicked out at the table, trying to overturn it and know Esther's spell flying over the floor and her home. Her foot went through like it wasn't there, and she staggered, thrown.

"Ugh! Why is this happening?" she screamed.

"Because you are dead. At least for the moment. If you were truly dead I would not be able to see you."

Leta jumped again, and spun round to see who had spoken.

It was a tall man in his late twenties, his hair black, his eyes brown. He was standing in a few feet away from her, hair arms folded. He looked worn and tired, his clothes filthy, his hair unusually short for a man.

"W-what?" she asked. "I'm not dead."

The man laughed silently. "You are, my dear, very dead indeed." He hastily held up a hand as Leta opened her mouth, taking a threatening step towards him. "Relax, you'll be coming back to life soon enough. Though I daresay when you have, you will wish for nothing but death."

So many questions were running through Leta's mind that she found it hard to choose her next words. So she settled on the most obvious one. "What is your name?"

"I am your cousin... Miguel. I was the wolf that your young friend Henrik Mikaelson killed," he informed her in a dark tone, his eyebrows drawing down in the middle. "Coincidentally I did kill him after that, so alls fair and square. No resentments on my part." He smiled brightly, revealing a set of yellowed teeth.

"My cousin..." she echoed, frowning.

Miguel shrugged, sticking out his bottom lip. "I am related to you through the pack."

Leta nodded. "That seems fair... I suppose you know that I cannot become a werewolf anymore?"

Miguel chuckled. "Of course, of course. You are something worse, but you'll find out about that in all good time."

Leta frowned again. "What it that supposed to mean?" she demanded, marching forward so she was almost nose to nose with him.

"You will find out... all in good time, all in good time..."

Miguel turned to go, apparently about to walk right through the closed door of the Mikaelson's home.

"Wait!" Leta called, reaching out and hand to try and grab him. Much to her surprise, her hand stopped when she wrapped it around his upper arm. She could touch him.

It did make sense, she supposed. After all, he was dead as well, it somehow added up that they should be able to make physical contact.

"Wait," she repeated desperately. "What am I supposed to do? Just hang around until I come back to life?"

Miguel looked back at her. "Obviously."

And he disappeared.

Leta gave a cry of frustration, wishing she could hit a wall, and turned her attention back to Esther and Mikael, fuming.

Leta was surprised at how calmly she was taking being dead, being a ghost like entity that no one else could see, and especially having a little chat with the werewolf who had kill-and been killed-by one of her friends.

The situation was all so unbelievably odd that it seemed almost natural for her to treat it as a common occurrence. There was absolutely no use in screaming or crying or having a panic attack over something she could not change.

Esther was sitting patiently waiting, while Mikael paced impatiently back and forth next to Leta's body. He kept glancing at it hopefully.

"You can forget the deal about my blood, Esther," she told the witch, bending down so her face was very close to hers. "You lost that chance when you got Mikael to quite literally stabbed me in the back."

Suddenly there was a howling, like that of the wind, but Leta knew only she could hear it, only she could feel it, though it were impossible for there to be wind inside the hut. But it came rushing, blowing her hair over her face.

It was as if an invisible force had grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her backwards, screaming. Darkness engulfed her and then she was falling. It felt like she fell for an eternity. But when she hit the ground it was worth the wait...

Her eyes snapped open and she gave a loud gasp, pushing herself up. Leta's head was bent, staring down at her chest. She slowly moved a hand to feel the place where she had been stabbed a few moments before. Well, she had to guess a few moments, because she actually had no idea. Her chest was whole, untouched, with only the stains of her blood to indicate anything had happened at all.

"Drink this."

Leta's head snapped up and she glared at Esther, her lungs still rising and falling rapidly.

"You killed me," she said, stunned.

Esther nodded, holding out a cup half filled with blood. "I did," she confirmed calmly.

"You killed me!" Leta shouted, leaping to her feet and backing away until she hit the wall.

"I am well aware of what I did, Leta, but if you do not drink this then you will die for good this time," Esther told her, moving forwards, still proffering the cup. Leta could smell the blood.

"Why should I trust you?"

"I never said you should, but it is in your best interests."

Leta snorted. Her best interests by damned. "If I drink this there will not be anymore unpleasant surprises? I will be allowed to go and I will not get killed again?" she inquired, feeling a little braver than she had before.

Another nod from Esther as she stepped closer. "Of course. As long as I get a cupful of your blood, I shall let you go free. I do not wish to hold you prisoner."

It seemed reasonable enough in Leta's mind, but sone sense inside of her was telling her that accepting Esther's offer would make everything far far worse.

"Alright," she eventually conceded, inching closer enough to accept the cup from Esther and brought it to her lips.

The blood was still warm, thicker than Leta had expected, but it tasted good. This just added to the number of things that she was surprised by. Why did she like the taste of blood? It seemed wrong: animalistic, almost. But she didn't care.

When she was done she handed the cup back to Esther, who smiled. "Thank you, Leta. Now your blood."

Leta looked down at her hands, fulling expecting to see the cut Esther had made earlier, but it was completely healed, gone, not even a scar.

"I think the time I have spent here tonight is the strangest I will ever know in my entire life," she murmured, turning her hand over, tracing it with her fingers.

"The blood, Leta!" Esther snapped impatiently, holding out her hand.

Leta reluctantly put her hand in Esther's and let her once again slice open her palm, dripping the blood into another cup. When she was done, she smiled and gave Leta a cloth to staunch the bleeding.

"I suppose we are done."

Leta smiled awkwardly. "I suppose so... See you around, Esther."

"Good morning, Leta," was the reply.


	18. Chapter 17

The sun was beginning to rise, but had not quite appeared in the sky yet, leaving the world in a dull grey light.

Something felt off to Leta, like the world had tilted sideways, but it still remained the same in her eyes. Yet Leta could sense a difference in the air, a strange feeling that gnawed at her. She wasn't uneasy exactly, she wasn't shaken from her ordeal inside Esther's hut, she wasn't even scared of the wolves anymore. Maybe that was it... the fact she no longer feared them.

Suddenly she realised she had no idea where she was to go. She had no home now, she refused to return to her mother out of nothing more than the petty reason of her mothers secrets. She knew she would never return home, to that little hut at the edge of Mystic Falls, at least, never to stay there. Maybe in years to come she would forgive her mother and drop by for some camomile tea, but she knew she wouldn't ever live there.

Maybe she could make a house in the forest, living away from everyone. It would protect them from the wolves wrath for her choice to defy them.

Leta hadn't thought through her plans at all. She had only focused on the one problem directly in front of her, how to stop from becoming a werewolf. But now she was faced with something bigger. The werewolves reaction to her actions. And the fact she hadn't even thought about what the outcome might be.

She had no way to defend herself from the wolves, let alone defend the people she loved and cared for. How was she supposed to face the consequences of her rash decision? Was she supposed to bargain with the wolves, offer them something? Or maybe she could fight them? But she doubted she had the strength to do even that. She could not even best Mikael in a fight, and Leta had a feeling the wolves would not play by the rules as Mikael would. If anything, Mikael was a fair fighter.

Leta scratched absently at an irritated patch of skin on the back of her hand. It felt like she had touched it against a vine of poisoned ivy without treatment. Like it was burning.

Leta turned her mind back to her current problems. First of all she would have to deal with the wolves. Whether she was going to kill them, bargain with them, or convince them that it was her fault and no one else's, they were the first obstacle in her way.

But the burning on the back of her hand was getting more intense, and suddenly there was a sharp hissing, fizzing noise. The smell or burning flesh reached her nose and she gasped as pain shot across every last bit of exposed the suns rays touched.

Leta moved without thinking, faster than she would have thought possible, into the shade, her mind working like a wolf ran to catch its prey.

The moment she was under the shade of the trees, the pain eased and she looked down at her hands. They were blistered and burned, red and the skin broken and sore. But even as she took all this in the skin began to clear up right before her eyes. It healed, quickly and miraculously, red turning to the soft white pink it had been before. And just like that she was the same as she had been since she was born. The pain was gone as if it had never been.

"What in the bloody hell-?" she muttered, turning her hands over to look at them from all angles, her eyes widening.

Leta was now shadowed by the trunk of an old pine tree, completely hidden from the sun, which had risen now, just enough to let its rays properly bathe the earth it its warmth.

Leta was so distracted by what had happened that she almost didn't notice how fast she had moved, as if upon instinct she had somehow known to move away from the sun. But as it was, Leta could not be sure if she were right about her theory. Was it truly the sunlight that had burned her skin so harshly?

Tentatively, Leta reached out a shaking hand out of the shade and into the sunlight.

Instantly her skin fizzled and began to blister and bubble like she had put her hand into the hottest of coals. Leta snatched her hand back with a small cry, clutching it to her chest until it had once again healed. She tried this several times, each time having to move so she was no longer being roasted alive.

Maybe the wolves were not her biggest problem after all. Maybe she had a far far bigger one to deal with before she could even begin to think about the others of the village.

She would have to hide until the day was over.

Leta slid down so her back now rested against the bark of the tree, putting her head in her hands.

What had Esther done to her? Had she betrayed Leta? Or was this a side effect that Esther had not foreseen? Maybe she had neglected to tell Leta, though? Maybe she had used Leta? Maybe the spell had not done what Leta thought it would? Had it been that Esther had simply lied to her? Was the spell Esther had been casting really a protection spell? Or had it been something more?

All these questions were hurting Leta's head, making her want to scream. Just in the moment when she had thought things might somehow be returning to normal, normality had been taken away from her. She really wanted to cry right then, but she knew it would do no good. She needed to think of a place she could hide until the sun had gone down. But where? Somewhere in the forest maybe?

The sun had moved higher in the sky, the shadow she was currently sheltering in slowly shrinking. Leta pulled her knees up to her chest to keep her legs out of the light. She didn't trust that her clothing would protect her from burning.

Everything was happening so fast and yet so slowly. She felt as if Henrik had died a year ago, but knew it had only been a few days. She hadn't been able to protect him. And what of Niklaus? How would he fare without her now? She could not walk in the sunlight, so he would be vulnerable to Mikael's angry attacks.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop!" she hissed underneath her breath, her eyes flicking form place to place like a mad persons. "Just for once think about yourself!"

And she knew where she could hide, though it would be difficult and painful to get there. And she wasn't sure if she would be safe.

Leta wondered when she had become so self serving. Some time in the last few days, to be sure. But she would not always be like this... It was only temporary.

"You cannot help others unless you have solved your own problems first," she mumbled.

Getting to her feet, Leta tried to calculate the next shadow she could hide in. It was not far away, but the sun was very bright now and she was sure it would be very painful, but what choice did she have.

She ran, or, more accurately, zipped to the other shadow, her skin hissing and burning. The fast movement startled her, the sudden stop even more so. Leta hardly stopped to marvel at this, however, moving to the next shadow, which was underneath another tree. Again her skin was burned, but again it healed.

By running from shadow to shadow, Leta eventually reached her destination, which was a small hollow beneath the roots of an old oak tree. It had been a place she and Nik had played as children. It was small, barely big enough to fit Leta, Elijah, Kol, Nik, and Rebekah. That was why they had stopped coming there. But for one person it was a snug place to sleep, maybe even make a very small home, but one you would not stay in, simply one to sleep in.

Leta was hidden underneath the shade of a tree only a few feet away, knowing she would have to be very careful when she entered the hiding place. The gap in the roots was small, hard to fit through, and bathed in the warm sun. She would be charcoal if she took to long in entering.

Leta made a dash for the hollow, throwing herself through the hole between the roots and rolling, smacking into the earth and jarring her whole body, once again healing itself from the burns the sun had caused.

She hastily crawled into a sitting position, making sure to stay away from the light that shone inside.

Leta was surprised she did not even feel tired after that, at least not physically. Mentally she was exhausted and wanted to erase everything that had happened since Henrik's death from her memory. It was all too fast and too confusing for her. But now she was safe from one problem, so she could focus on the next.

How was she supposed to stop Myron unleashing his rage-because she was certain he would-upon the Mikaelson's, if not the village?

Leta slumped back against the earthy wall, looking around at the tiny space, all dried dirt and roots sticking from the ceiling. She could remember every happy time she had spent here with Niklaus, sometimes Henrik, and sometimes the other Mikaelson children. Everything was seemed so trivial then.

Her list of questions was never ending, her worries only growing larger, her mind only getting wearier, her head beginning to hurt, and her throat dry and aching in a strange thirst she had never experienced before. She was hungry.

Leta chuckled to herself, feeling strange. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire..." she whispered, closing her eyes.

Now all she had to do was wait... wait and think...


	19. Chapter 18

Night rolled in quickly, though to Leta it felt like hours. She dozed throughout most of the day, but the moment the night came she was suddenly wide awake.

Her eyes flickered open and she sat up. The moonlight was filtering through the gap in the roots, beautiful and silvery. It was like she saw it clearly for the first time, her eyes working better than ever before.

Leta didn't have to understand what Esther had transformed her into, but she knew she was no longer a human, she was no longer a werewolf, but she was something. And that something was very fast, and she needed to be fast. But she also needed her life back to the way it had been. There was no way that would ever happen. Whether she was a werewolf or a human or whatever she was now, her life couldn't go back to normal.

Leta wasn't sure why the moon had made her suddenly realise all this, but it made her feel very serene and wise. And that was a good thing, because if she had failed to remain tranquil that night, she would have died.

There was a moment of doubt in Leta's mind when she reached out her hand and put it in the moonlight, expecting her skin to get fried again. But nothing happened much to Leta's relief. She let out a shaky breath and let herself relax for a few seconds before she crawled out of the hollow.

Pushing her hair away from her face and stood up, brushing the earth from her arms and her knees.

First things first, she had to have a little chat with the werewolves and tell them they were out of a pack member. And oddly she wasn't afraid. If meeting with the wolves and telling them the truth was what she needed to do then Leta would do it. Or course, she had no idea if she had to, but she was sure there was no other option left to her.

Walking quickly, Leta began heading in the direction of the Wolf Cliff, sometimes tripping in the dark, sometimes walking into a tree, but it didn't make her resolve waver.

The man running into the small village, his face red and his lungs out of breath. He clutched at a stitch in his side and supported himself with the trunk of a tree. He had a small scar on his upper lip, his hair a dark chestnut brown.

All the eyes of the werewolves turned to him expectantly, and Myron sighed and cleared his throat.

"She's missing... again," the man panted, his eyes panicked.

Myron's eyes flashed with anger, quickly concealed behind an easy smile as he folded his arms and nodded. "She will come... Miss Mitchell knows there will be consequences if she does not go through with this night." He turned to a young woman that stood a little way aways, her bright green eyes watchful, her hair black as midnight. "Myra, please make sure the ceremony is prepared, child."

She bowed her head and scurried away out of Myron's view.

Myra had been born into the wolf pack, grown up in the village where the wolves lived. She knew her place and her life and she had never thought to question it. She was destined to become a member of the pack just as Leta was, but Myra had always been told to stay far away from the village where the humans lived, like it carried a poison like no other.

She had obeyed this unquestioningly, her heart staying true to her family, her green eyes every wandering over to the cliff opposite the village. She had once seen a girl there, sitting alone, her hair fair as the sun, yellow as the thin gold chain that hung around her neck, a small stone, as green as her eyes, attached to it.

She was like a daughter to Myron, after her parents had... But Myron had always told her that it was better of she did not know, and Myra had blindly accepted his words. It was her way, how she thought it was best to survive.

She ran to the place where the ceremony was to take place, in the very centre of the village, where the well stood, the moonlight shining down upon the water within.

Candles were burning, placed upon all surfaces, lighting up the village square like in a romantic tale. They marked a path up to a small platform that had been built from the wooden planks made from trees. A stake was at the far side of this platform, a bundle of rope laying beside it. Myra was puzzled that the one who was to be killed had not been tied up already. Had Myron not chosen who it was weeks ago?

"No questions, no queries, no qualms, and no woes," she whispered to herself as she picked up the soft fabrics of her dress and hurried over to the older werewolf, who was sitting on the edge of the platform, his chin in his hands. He was old and grey and looked like if you touched him he would turn to dust.

"Still repeating that silly rhyme, I see," he muttered, turning his ice grey eyes to look at her. His face was aged and wrinkled, the flesh seeming to hang off, but he portrayed a frailness that softened even the hardest of hearts.

Myra smiled. "Not a silly rhyme, simply a little policy that has kept my life simple."

The old man snorted, chuckling. "Tell yourself what it takes to make yourself sleep at night, my dear," he told her in a wheezy, almost gruff voice.

Myra waved his comment away. "Myron sent me to see if the ceremony is ready. Is it? I do not see the sacrifice, Godwin."

Godwin sighed, his eyes sad and wilting. "I am the sacrifice, my dear. Get gone and tell 'im the ceremony is well an' ready." He waved his hands at her until she started to move away, feeling empty, like someone had reached into her stomach and pulled out her insides.

Godwin was the one to die. And Myra always played by her policy, her silly little rhyme.

 _No questions, no queries, no qualms, and no woes._

 _No worries, no asking, no death then, no foes._

To her, it meant do not meddle and do not ask questions. Basically, if Myra kept her head down she would always be safe in her ignorance. And she intended for it to stay that way always.

Leta's hair brushed over her shoulders in the light breeze. The darkness was now almost like daylight to Leta's eyes, which appeared to shine.

She hurried down a small slope, then ran along the familiar, flat stretch of ground, only covered by trees, that lead to the Wolf Cliff. When she reached the edge, she could see the flickering lights on the other side, where a werewolf stationary must be waiting for her arrival.

Some primal instinct alerted Leta to the presence standing behind her, though they were as silent as the grave. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end as she whirled around.

"Hello, Leta. Good to see you decided to show up," Ansel grinned cheerfully, laughter shaking his shoulders. Though Leta could sense it was not a happy thing.

Leta folded her arms. "Take me to Myron."

Ansel stepped forwards. "I saw what Esther Mikaelson did to you this morning. I only came to say I want my pack to have no part in this oncoming war between Myron and you. I only wish for Esther and her family to be kept out of it. Can you promise me they will be?"

Leta dropped her eyes, tracing the earth with her foot. "I shall try my best. I do not wish for any of them to be hurt either. They are like my family, I would die rather than lose them."

"You might just have to, you do know that?" Ansel asked concernedly.

"Oh, I have no hope against the wolves. I may be faster than lighting now, but that will not aid me. I do not wish to kill anyone," she whispered, taking a step closer to the cliffs edge.

"It'll be kill or be killed, Leta," Ansel warned.

Leta rounded on him, her arms swinging, exasperation filling her. "I know my actions have consequences, Ansel. Now are you going to show me how to get to the other side of that cliff or not? I have a limited amount of time before the sun rises and I get burned to a crisp by its rays. Please do not waste my time."

Ansel smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Very well. Follow me. Myron's waiting."

"She is coming," Myron smiled, looking at Myra. She stood next to him, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Around her shoulders a blanket had been draped to protect her from the cold. Her hair was braided and hung down her back.

Myra was still in shock, but she supposed he should have seen it coming. Godwin was a little to old to be of any use to the pack. And he was always complaining, that old fool.

Myra found herself smiling at that.

And just for once she decided to break her rule.

Myra looked up at Myron and opened her mouth. "Can I ask you something?"

Myron's eyes flashed with something she didn't know. Maybe fury? But he turned to her and grinned. "Of course."

There was a long pause while Myra fought with her morals, her motto, her rules. She would have to betray the very core of who she was, of what she stood by.

But Myra asked her question anyway, knowing that something would change after that night.

"Why do you want this girl? You could have chosen out of any of the village people who have not broken their curse yet, but you chose her. Why?"


	20. Chapter 19

Leta was surprised that she didn't fall to her death on the climb down, let alone the climb up the other side of the ravine. But by the time Ansel had led her to the other side, her clothes were torn at the sleeves, dirt spearing her forearms and the white cloth. There was a scrape across the left knee of her trousers and she was pretty sure she had cut herself and healed too many times to count. Not that she was trying, her mind was to preoccupied with trying not to die.

Ansel hauled himself over the edge with ease, like he had been doing this since forever. It made Leta wonder how he easy it had been to bring the deer he had been hunting back over. Ansel was evidently stronger than she thought.

"Do you need a hand?" he asked, sticking out his hands to her.

Leta gave it a scorching glare. "I do not," she insisted, trying to pull herself over the top of the cliff and almost losing her handhold in the process.

Ansel rolled his eyes in the darkness and hoisted Leta onto her feet at the edge of the cliff with an exasperated sigh. "I am not waiting around for you to try and climb over the edge of the ravine. I have better things to do, like protect my pack from the dangers you have set in motion. Myron may appear like someone sweet..."

Leta snorted. "He is such a darling," she said with sarcasm.

"But his rage is something I have glimpsed only once. Tread carefully, Leta. The village is a little ways that way."

And with that, Ansel was gone, running as fast as he could into the trees, leaving Leta standing alone, only a few steps away from falling off the other side of the Wolf Cliff.

Leta gave a small chuckle. "I never thought I would be here... Not really..." she mumbled, beginning the walk towards the wolves village.

The door to the Mikaelson home was opened and in trudged four exhausted people. One was Niklaus. The came Rebekah, Elijah, and Kol. They all looked disheartened and Niklaus and Rebekah even had old tear stains on their cheeks.

Esther looked up from pouring seven mugs of the deep red wine she had made awhile ago for a special occasion. And what better occasion than the day she would make her children immortal?

"Did you find her?" she asked calmly, already knowing the answer.

"Of course not," Kol spat bitterly, throwing down his coat and sitting dejectedly on the floor. He ran his hands through his hair, wondering what had happened to turn everything in his world so sour.

Rebekah flung herself into Esther's arms, fresh tears coming to her eyes like someone had unblocked the damn in a river.

"Oh, stop crying like a whining brat!" Kol snarled, leaping to his feet in anger.

"Kol!" Elijah, Niklaus, Finn, and Esther all gasped, and Finn went as far as to try and slap him.

Before anything more serious could happen, Mikael, who had been partially hidden in the shadows in the far corner, stepped forwards and intervened, placing a hand on each of Kol and Finn's chests and pushing them apart.

"Enough," he hissed quietly, but it was also like the loudest sound in the room. "We do not fight amongst family, not when family is what we are in need of most after your brother's death." Mikael looked at each of his children in turn, his eyes dark. "Your mother and I thought it was high time that we have a happy night, considering everything that has happened in the last few days. She even brought out the wine and all you can do is fight. I ask, that just for tonight, we be merry."

This speech left his children lost for words. They had never truly heard their father say something like that that wasn't sarcastic, or in a fit of rage towards Niklaus.

Elijah was the first to move, taking a cup and raising it to his lips. "Very well. It could no harm hurt," he said, a small smile curling his lips and making his eyes dance in the firelight.

It didn't take long for Leta to reach the village, a rather quaint little place with fires burning and food cooking and laughter all around. But the moment they saw her, everything turned sombre. Not one giggle escaped the lips of the people there.

The village was a collection of huts, huddled together closely and far smaller than Mystic Falls. Everything glowed with fire and candlelight, giving the whole town a homely feel to it.

For the first time, Leta wondered if maybe it wouldn't have been so terrible to join these people, so much like a big family. But then she remembered the pain of turning, breaking every bone in her body, and she shook of the snow of regret that had silently fallen on her shoulders.

And she walked forwards, deeper into the village, looking for Myron. It didn't take long for her to find him. And beside him stood a girl, her eyes the brightest green, her hair black as ravens wings, her skin pale and her face curious.

Myra watched closely as the girl, several years older than herself, approached Myron. She walked differently from how Myra had expected. She had expected her to act proud, happy even, to be chosen, but this girl stood like she were accepting her punishment. And also like she were going to her death.

Myron's answer to her question earlier rang in her head.

 _"Because she is special... I can sense something within her that would make a good addition the pack, Myra. And she is Jonas' daughter, after all..."_

"I am glad to see you have not tried to run away, Leta," Myron said, half grinning. He moved a few steps towards the girl.

Leta smiled a little and nodded her head. "Myron, I cannot join your pack."

Her words hung in the air like thick cobwebs. The shock in Myron's eyes was undeniable, as was the anger that replaced it.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked coolly, his jaw clenching, his hands balling into fists.

They were at the edge of the village still, the other werewolves blissfully unaware of the events that were about to unfold, but Myra was beginning to feel frightened and indecisive.

Should she fetch someone?

Should she try and talk to this girl?

Should she run away to protect herself?

Should she dare to ask another question?

Leta shrugged a little. "It is physically impossible for me to now become a werewolf. I sought out someone who helped me bind that side of me, essentially erasing it..."

Myra had not known that was even possible. Surely only the darkest of magic could do something like that to a person?

Myron bristled. "Le-ta Mit-chell," he said, pronouncing each syllable very carefully, the anger starting to boil. "Please tell me what you say is a lie."

Leta shook her head. "I came here to ask that you pardon me and that you accept that I am never to be one of you. Not anymore." She took a step forwards, seeming oblivious to the danger that was Myron's rage.

Myra ached to warn her, but she told herself if she spoke up, she would be next on Myron's list.

Myron laughed bitterly. "You try and cheat your destiny, but destiny cannot be foiled."

Leta blinked, taken aback, but she regained her self composure quickly. "I prefer to think that I simply took control of my own, Myron. I do not believe in having my destiny shaped by others. If I pick up a lump of clay am I not the one who moulds it into a new form?"

Myra retreated a little ways, trying to stay out of the line of fire, but the moment she moved Leta's eyes snapped to her.

"It would help if you would stay here...?" Leta trailed away, her eyes meeting Myra's.

"I am Myra," she said, her voice crystal clear. She stood up a little straighter.

Far off in the night there was the loud hoot of an owl as if flew over the trees. The darkness seemed to press in on the little group. It made the hairs on the back of Leta's neck stand on end, her nerves on edge. She shifted uneasily on her feet, watching as Myron bristled all over.

It was obvious that Leta's hopes for settling this peacefully were not to be the reality of the situation...

Rebekah Mikaelson screamed. She cried out in pain, but none of the village folk heard her.

"Drink!" Mikael roared, gripping Rebekah tightly by the arm. So tightly it hurt.

Rebekah was shaking so hard she wasn't sure she would be able to drink the blood that was dripping from the wrist of the dead man before her. Tears streaked down her face as she tried to comprehend everything that had just happened.

She had watched as her brothers had each been murdered by Mikael, a sword plunged deep into each of their stomachs. And then it had happened to her.

But she had woken up.

"DRINK!" Mikael bellowed again.

With a terrified shriek, Rebekah placed her mouth over the blood and began to gulp it down. And it was the most heavenly things she had ever tasted.

Back on the cliff with Myron, Leta stepped forwards, her hands clenched, her eyes steely.

"I ask that you let me go, that you still your rage and that you come to understand my situation. Please, Myron, be angry at me for my actions, but do not start a war over this."

A dreadful calm stole over Myron then, and he smiled. "I am starting no war, my dear. I am simply going to kill you and destroy everything you hold close to your heart."

And he threw Leta off of the cliff.


	21. Chapter 20

Falling. She was falling. That was all she felt, a weight that pulled her towards the bottom of the ravine like water tumbling over the edge of the falls. Her screaming was drowned out by the rushing that filled her ears, her hands reaching futilely out above her to try and catch a hold of something. But only darkness was above her, her grey-blue eyes staring at the stars. Leta's hair whipped around her face as she hurtled towards the ground, her doom ever looming beneath her.

So this was it. This was how she would die. Pushed from the other side of the Wolf Cliff. Not a very regale way to go, but when you are about to die you never really think about those sorts of things.

As Myron had shoved her over the edge, she had seen the malice in his eyes, the pleasure. He had enjoyed knowing he had exacted his revenge upon the girl who had ruined what he had wanted. He knew he would easily be able to kill her, knew she could do nothing about it. That it would be the end of Leta Mitchell and that he would be able to murder everyone she loved, with her final moments being ones of sheer and utter terror.

However far she was from the rocks below, Leta would never know, because she was unable to look. She was unable to do anything but scream as long and as loud as she could, hoping against all hope that someone would hear her. But no one would be coming to her aid on that night.

And then Leta hit the ground.

Pain. White hot, searing pain that broke her bones and ripped the skin from her flesh. It tore at her, cracking her spine and shoving something out of place in her left leg. Blood poured, flowing thickly and darkly over the stones. Her terror filled shrieks were cut off abruptly as a jagged stone rammed itself through her stomach. And there was a blinding flash of golden light, then blackness closed over her, and she died once more...

Myra covered her hands with her mouth, giving a cry of horror. Tears leaped into her eyes as she took a step backwards away from Myron.

Leta's screams echoed up to Myra's ears, haunting her with their somehow ghostly beauty.

Myron turned to her, smiling. "I am sorry you had to see that, Myra. Only know that Leta Mitchell deserved the death she got. She tried to cheat her destiny, and, in doing so, she sealed her fate."

Myron strode forward and cupped Myra's face in his hands, staring deeply into her bright green eyes. "Promise me you understand."

Her heart thudded like a drum in Myra's ears. She felt her pulse quicken in fear as she moved her head once up and once down, one nod. "I understand," she whispered, her breath pluming in front of her.

Myron's face stretched into a sudden grin, his startlingly white teeth flashing like the sun, and he released her and walked away.

Myra sunk to her knees, her hands shaking from not only the cold, but also the shock and the horror of what she had just witnessed. The closest thing to father figure she had had just thrown someone over a cliff. He had murdered her in cold blood, without hesitation, without remorse.

Tears streaked down her cheeks as she crawled to the rim of the cliff and peered over into the darkness, her midnight hair falling over her shoulders in silken waves.

It was pitch black down there, making it impossible for Myra to see Leta's body far below her, mangled and broken as it was. Myra was glad of this, knowing she would have regretted seeing such a horror.

A quivering laugh escaped her lips.

Leta sat up with a shout, scrambling backwards over the rocks and pressing herself as far away from the place her real body still lay, very much dead and very much mutilated. Everything was once again tinged with blue.

Her eyes travelled in a kind of horrified awe across the sharp spike of rock that she was speared on, gazing at the place where it protruded from her midriff. Her head hung back, tilted so her lifeless eyes were staring into her spirit ones. Blood was running from her nose and mouth, the blood vessels burst in her eyes, marring them with crimson colouring. Her arms were thrown out, one arm bent at a worryingly wrong angle, the wrist twisted like the branches of a gnarled tree. A bone had snapped clean in half and was poking through the skin of her leg. Blood dripped and pooled, so much blood. Her blood. Was she truly dead this time?

Leta took this all in, feeling a strange calm stealing over her, stopping her from beginning to cry and yell and run as far away from this horrific scene as she possibly could. Instead, she pushed herself to her feet, standing over herself, looking stonily down at her dead body.

Turning her attention to the ravine she was in, Leta raised her head.

The ravine rose steeply on either side of her, towering like the granite walls of a castle, dark and imposing. The stones ran with moisture, the air damp, but no longer cold, at least not to Leta anyway. The rocks around her were pointed, grey and black, some rising as high as her head, some only coming up to her ankles. They came in all shapes and sizes, but each and every one of them was as menacing as the next. It was like she were in a graveyard.

Leta closed her eyes and drew in a lungful of air. And when her eyes opened again, she set her jaw and looked around with meaning.

"If I had a penny for every time my life has been turned to hell in these past few days, I would be prospering like a queen."

Myra found she wasn't sure what to do with herself knowing what she had witnessed, knowing what Myron had done.

It was like she were floating in limbo, feeling unbelievably weightless as she sat on the lip of the Wolf Cliff, her eyes glazed over as she thought.

Myra supposed it would be practical for her to go home and sleep, trying her best to forget about the horrible act she had seen committed. But Myra could not bring herself to move.

Had this girl, Leta, done anything wrong, Myra may have been able to ignore Myron's actions, but as far as she had seen or heard she did not believe she had deserved her untimely end. And, as it was, Myra did not feel it right to leave that beautiful girl at the bottom of the ravine, her body nothing more than meat for the animals.

Myra slowly got to her feet, feeling lightheaded as she began to walk through the trees, steadily making her way away from the werewolf village. Her head was bent so she could make sure her footing was sure and she could not trip.

The frozen air bit sharply at her skin, turning her breath to mist and hurting her throat as she drew in lungfuls of the night oxygen. Her eyes were well accustomed to the blackness after many full moons of roaming the forest in wolf form.

As she walked, she externally scolded herself for being so foolish, for letting some strange sentiment take over her thoughts and whims. How could she be so stupid as to even consider climbing down into the ravine to find a dead girls body? The body of a girl she didn't even know.

"Do not ask questions is my motto," she mumbled, her tone so low even she had trouble hearing it. "It says nothing about acting, just so long as no questions are asked... Then I have not broken what I live by..."

Her feet felt like ice as she reached the point she knew the wolves climbed down by. She had waved them off on many occasions. It was a much worn out path, if you could call it that. It was a straight drop down to the rocks, but hand holds seemed to have been cut into the side of the ravine, making it easy to get up and down, like a ladder almost.

It was hard for Myra to find these in the darkness, but somehow she managed, struggling with each one, feeling she would lose her grip or her footing and find herself the next victim of the sharp and jagged stones that lay below her.

This was enough incentive to make her pay full attention to what she was doing as she put one foot down, feeling for another foothold, her numb fingers gripping to the rock wall for dear life.

It felt as though she had been there for hours, slowly but surely making her way down, as though it were some never ending pit.

Just as this thought occurred to Myra, her left foot found solid ground with a jarring thud, making her jump and lose her grip, falling onto her back and grazing her forearm.

She let out a small cry of pain as she felt blood begin to trickle from the wound. Not a serious flow, but enough to make her wish she hadn't come down there on a whim.

Leta sat crosslegged on the flattest and most comfortable stone she could find, staring up at the star strewn sky, picking out the constellations to pass the time.

She had decided that if she had not awakened by sunrise then her life was over and she would have to resign herself to a life as an etherial being, unseen and unknown by all.

The time passed in monotonously sluggish seconds, like the world had slowed. She had no one to keep her company in this odd place this time. She was utterly alone.

How funny it was that she seemed to already be used to that idea.

Leta felt a gentle wind touch her skin, quickly whipping up into a gale. She knew this part. She was waking up.


	22. Chapter 21

Agonising pain was the first thing she felt when she came back to the living world, instantly forgetting her time in the dead. Darkness surrounded her, enfolded her, blinded her, and so did the pain. It came form her stomach, where all her ribs were broken, where blood still steadily flowed from her, yet somehow she was alive again.

Was it possible that she could no longer die? Had Esther made her immortal.

It was hard to concentrate of such questions right then, with tears streaming down her face and into her hair, mixing with the blood from her nose and mouth.

It was to painful to even raise her head, because it put an unbearable excruciating agony to her midriff. The muscles she needed were nothing more than shreds, dangling somewhere then shouldn't be.

Leta bit her lip to suppress a scream as she tried to lift her head to look at the place the rock had broken through her. But she could barely move it hurt so much. The muscles that usually helped her move her head were in her stomach, and it wasn't exactly operational right then, so she was forced to lay there, choking on her own sobs. Each sob would wrack her body with pain, sending white hot daggers through her entire body.

From far off, there was a muffled scrabbling noise. Something slipped on a stone.

Leta had gone past the point of caring about anything but herself. She wasn't even sure she cared about that anymore. And she was sure she was about to get eaten by a wild animal, so maybe then she would finally die, because she didn't think she could take another moment of the torture.

She should never have tried to cheat Myron and avoid she was really was. If she had, she would only have been living with the death of someone on her hands and she would be with her pack... She wouldn't be stuck where she was. She may even have had a sliver of happiness.

Whatever it was had gotten closer, or that was what Leta could tell from her almost strangely good hearing. She hadn't really registered it before, but there was a lot of things the spell had changed about her. Whether it was physical or mental or a side effect, she felt completely different.

Whatever it was muttered something to itself as it drew steadily nearer, the scrambling sounds getting louder and louder.

"Help me..." Leta croaked, trying to turn her head to find who the voice belonged to. It was to painful to do anything, so she was forced to stare at the starry sky.

For Leta had quickly realised that animals do not mutter to themselves, and it could not have been intending to eat her. Was it possible Myron had come all the way down just to finish her off?

"Please... Help me..."

Myra's eyes were streaming from having just hit her head on a rock. She had said something most unladylike and continued on her way, having to wonder if she would even be able to find the corpse of Leta in the darkness.

Her movements were louder than the rats that often hunted the food supplies. Myra's pale skin was smudged with the grey dirt that covered the surface of almost any stone she came into contact with. Her dress was torn and her fringe was hanging in her face. Her lungs were feeling empty even with every breath she breathed.

As Myra climbed over one of the largest rocks she had yet encountered, she say something almost as pale as she was down below her. And she heard the whispering hoarse voice of a girl.

When you look down on something from quite far away, you can often not fully see the picture, especially when it is night time and you are not in your wolf form. This was why Myra at first did not quite understand what she was looking at. But when she did, she gave a cry, a mixture between jubilation at having found what she sort, and horror at seeing the state of Leta Mitchell's body.

She hurried to reach her, slipping and sliding her way to Leta, who lay struggling where she had fallen, the rock still in her stomach, her arms hanging out either side of her.

"Help me... Please help me..." she murmured, her eyes already beginning to droop shut as she came close to yet another death.

"I will, I will!" Myra said, hastily moving so she was looking down into Leta's face. "How am I to help you?" she asked gently, not quite daring to take another look at Leta's body.

Leta couched and cried out as pain shot through her again. "Get me off of this rock..." Her eyes were wide now; astounded that she had been granted a rescuer.

Myra looked fearfully between Leta's face to her stomach, biting her lip with worry. "I am afraid it will do no good. You are to die either way. It is a miracle you have not already."

Leta managed a smile, a little choked laugh escaping her lips. "I fear you would be surprised..."

Myra nodded, trying to convince herself that she could do what Leta had asked. "Okay," she muttered, stepping back to get a better look at the situation. "Okay, I can push you upwards and off of the rock, but then you will fall down the other side. I cannot imagine the pain that will cause." Her eyes flickered to Leta's face again.

Leta laughed, almost hysterically. "I just got thrown off the other side of the Wolf Cliff and you are worried about the pain of falling a few feet."

Myra had to agree that was a fair point.

Carefully, she reached forwards and put her hands underneath Leta, straining until her body started to move.

This time Leta could not suppress her shouts of agony. She screamed, biting down on her hand until she drew blood, as Myra pushed her over and off the rock. And then Leta fell, hitting the ground with a thud and jarring her body. Pain ricocheted from her stomach to every other part of her body. Another scream, another stabbing, burning that sent her convulsing, turning so she was laying on her back. Once again her eyes were facing the stars.

Myra scurried to her side, kneeling beside her, her hands hovering uselessly over Leta like they were nothing more than butterflies.

Leta coughed out a mouthful of blood and let her head fall back against the hard rock, letting out a sigh.

"You are dying..." Myra whispered.

A hysterical laugh burst from Leta's mouth. She felt quite mad, though not insane. She had no urge to kill all those she saw.

"Give me a moment, please. I am not as fragile as you think. You see... Ouch... Could you..." Her breathing was getting easier, the pain ebbing slowly away. "I cannot... I... Would you do me the favour of setting my bones right?"

Myra stared at the mass of blood and the cracked and broken ribs. Only two ribs, the bottom ones were in anyway damaged. But it was severe damage that Myra did not see being able to be fixed. She could surely reset these bones, but Leta would still die.

"Do it!" Leta snapped, a sudden anger gripping her, impatience winning of the waining pain. She could feel herself healing, but the broken bones were preventing it.

Myra jumped at her shout, hastily putting her hands to the bloodied bones and then quickly putting them back into place. Leta gave a grunt of pain.

Myra's hands came away, covered in blood, staining her perfect skin, making her feel somehow dirty, like she would never be able to wash it off.

Leta felt her bones heal, her skin magically seeming to knit itself back together.

The pain was gone almost entirely, only a horrible throbbing in her leg to remind her it had ever been.

Slowly, she sat up, checking herself over. A white bone protruded from her calf, tearing through the leather of her trousers.

Hating herself for what she had to do next, Leta reached forwards and snapped it back into place, pushing it into her skin with a nasty squelching sound and a yell of pain.

Myra watched all this, her mind reeling.

"How did you do that?" she asked, her eyes wide as she saw the wound healing. She pointed first to Leta's stomach and then to her leg. "You... You were on the verge of death... Yet..."

Leta hardly knew herself how this had happened, but she felt an overwhelming sense of power and self-confidence rush through her as she stood up.

A smirk crossed her lips. "I have learned not to question what happens that I do not understand. Come, you stay out here and you will catch your death." Leta smiled and held out a hand to Myra, who took it and noticed how cold Leta's fingers were.

"What is your name, child?" Leta questioned.

"Myra."

Leta smiled again. "Come, I need to see Myron again. You are to be my leverage."

She gripped Myra tightly by the upper arm, so tightly it hurt, but Myra had no time to protest because her breath was taken away as she was whisked from one place to another.

Leta had moved fast, the same kind of fast as she when she had been running from the sun, taking Myra with her. And when she reached the place Ansel had showed her earlier, she paused in thought, giving Myra enough time to try and grasp what had happened.

Myra opened her mouth to gasp a question, but again Leta had move, this time jumping.

 _If I can run as fast as that, then why not jump as high as the top of the gorge?_ she asked herself.

She was right, of course. She could indeed jump higher than imaginable. And she did, landing on the lip of the ravine, still holding Myra close to her.

That was the night Leta discovered she was so much more than cured of her werewolf side. She was so much more than immortal. She was-in her opinion-almost like a god.

Blinded by her rage-a rage that had come on so suddenly it felt as though she were a changed person-Leta began to make her way towards the werewolf village, towing Myra with her, her little human heart pounding in her fear...


	23. Chapter 22

Rage fuelled Leta as she-for the second time that night-came to the edge of the werewolves village. She paid no heed to the sobbing girl beside her, who had already realised that the Leta she had seen before, the girl she had thought did not deserve to die, was by no means going to thank her for it. Far from that in fact.

Despite the terror surging inside her, Myra forced herself to speak. She just had to know the answer. "Are you going to kill me?" Myra asked, her body wracked with trembles of fear. She looked up at Leta, making sure to keep her gaze trained on Leta's face, which was set in stone.

Leta glanced at her briefly, her expression contemplating. "I do not know," she replied softly. "It all depends on whether Myron wants to comply or not. I have gone past the point of being gentle..." Her eyes were far away when she said this, her voice distant.

She forced Myra to stop just beyond where the trees ended, surrounding the village. They were both in shadow, hidden by darkness where no one, not even in werewolf form, could have seen them.

Leta watched the village for a moment; some of the candles had been left burning in the square, illuminating the small collection of houses. It looked almost quaint in Leta's eyes, not that she really cared, it would all be gone soon.

"Look at me," Leta suddenly snarled, roughly yanking Myra around to face her, staring at her intently.

Myra flinched away, only infuriating Leta more so. And she shook Myra violently once. Just once, her eyes stone cold, her face full of anger.

"I want you to listen to me very carefully, Myra. If you try and escape I will kill you." Leta wasn't entirely sure if that were true or not, but the fear in the young girls eyes made it clear she thought Leta was telling the absolute truth. And that was good enough for Leta Mitchell.

Myra nodded, heart thudding. She was to scared to even move. Her chest rose and fell to rapidly, her breaths loud and panicked.

It almost seemed anticlimactic, in a way, to Leta as least. Everything was so quiet, so still, so calm, yet inside her mind everything was swirling. She knew what she had to do, and like she had said, the time for being gentle and reasonable was now gone. There was no chance of her getting out of this without blood being spilled, not anymore. And the part of Leta that was in control now was actually glad of this. It was time she took out a little of her fury upon those who had turned it to hell. She deserved that at least.

"Let's go then..." And a sick smile twisted the corners of Leta's mouth, her eyes gleaming with the thirst for revenge. Though she had no idea of the other thirst that would soon be awakened within her. The thirst that would destroy everything.

The village was quiet, most of the werewolf inhabitants having gone to bed when Myron had told them of the 'unfortunate occurrence' that had happened to Leta. Now only Myron and his few trusted advisors were awake, holding a meeting in the tiny hut they had dubbed the council house. The town hall of sorts.

Myron was seated upon one of the three wooden benches that lines the walls of the hut. He was leaning forwards, his elbows rested on his knees.

The hut was illuminated by three lanterns, each casting their own shadows over the people who sat there.

The other council members were made up of three people. Two sat to Myron's left, the third, a woman with long greying hair and an eye that was milky white in her blindness, sat alone. This woman's name was Morgana and she had been a werewolf far longer than Myron had. She was also wiser than him, and knew that there would not be peace if Myron continued to lead the pack. He was too hotheaded, to impulsive and to full of a burning anger that could never be satisfied.

The two other men who sat side by side were Samuel and Charles. Both brothers. They were hard men, worn down from years of living in the wilderness. They were some of the toughest werewolves in the pack, the reason Myron had selected them to be a part of the council. He traded brains for brawn, preferring the power of bulk instead of the power of thought. And although Myron's mind and tongue were made of silver, much like the norse god of mischief, Loki, Myron did not like to surround himself with people who had the brain capacity to overthrow him.

"We will pay a visit to the Mikaelson's tomorrow. And then we will end them."

Morgana's one good eye turned to look disapprovingly at Myron. "You are a foolish young man, Myron. You do not know what you are saying. Destroying a family is no way to bring about the peace," she told him, her voice ancient and cracked. Her face was stern, like she were speaking to a naughty grandchild.

"I intend to deliver on my promise to Leta Mitchell, Morgana. I said I would kill everything she held dear. And that is exactly what I shall do," he said coldly, clasping his hands in front of him.

There was total silence as they stared into each others eyes, Morgana's blind one absently tilting downwards.

And then the door was thrown off of its hinges, flying across the small hut and smacking straight into Myron, who was crushed against the far wall. The two brothers gave identical cries and leaped to their feet.

Leta towered there, blood soaked, her shirt shredded, covered in mud and sweat. Her eyes were burning, her hair was matted. She gave off a distinctly insane vibe, her teeth bared, already stained with her own blood. The small and delicate Myra was standing hunched by her side, her bright green eyes brimming with fresh tears.

"You'll never touch them as long as I keep coming back. And I do not plan on stopping anytime soon," Leta hissed,

She stepped over the threshold, in all her glory, pulling Myra in front of her, so her back was pressed against Leta's front. Leta fastened her hand around Myra's throat, pushing her fingers down on her windpipe until she was gasping for breath.

Myron picked himself up from the ground cautiously, his nose bleeding, one of his ribs cracked; Leta had heard it break. He didn't let his surprise show. He had one hand to his side, but stood up straight and proud, still holding on to his dignity. His eyes hardened. But for the first time Myron, leader of the Crescent pack, was lost for words.

Leta smiled, chest swelling with pride. "I will rip little Myra's throat out unless you agree to leave and never come back," she threatened, lifting Myra so her feet barely touched the floor. Myra made a chocking sound, her eyes bulging as she struggled to breathe.

Myron smirked, a chuckle bursting from his lips. He waved a hand at Samuel and Charles, who were about to attack Leta, a signal saying to back down.

"Listen, Leta," he said, giving her a charismatic grin. "I may not know how you survived my pushing you over the edge of the ravine, but if you insist on blackmailing me then you are putting yourself in very dangerous waters," Myron warned, wiping the blood from his upper lip on the back of his hand and taking a step forwards.

"Come any closer and she dies anyw..." Leta's voice got lost as she smelt the fresh blood, heard Myron's heart thumping rhythmically in his broad chest. Her eyes located the artery pulsing in his neck. She swallowed, saliva suddenly gushing into her mouth.

Something happened then, something that made even Myron lose his cool, just for a moment. Fear flickered across his face, just like the black veins that flickered across Leta's.

A snarl escaped her lips and she threw Myra into the corner of the hut. Myra's head smacked against the bench and she cried out in pain as her right arm broke. But Leta was no longer paying attention.

With another snarl, animalistic and cruel, she zipped towards Myron at lightning speed. Using strength she didn't know she had, she took a handful of Myron's hair and yanked his head sideways, giving herself easy access to his jugular.

Without hesitation, she drew her head back, opening her mouth wide. Fangs extended, grew and sharpened. And she sank her teeth into his neck, drinking until there was nothing left to drink, feeling the blood spill over his shoulder and cover her chin. But Leta didn't care because the feeling of drinking that blood was euphoric.

Myron's lifeless body fell to the floor and Leta stepped over him towards the two brothers.

It didn't take long for their lives to end too, their bodies soon lying beside Myron's. They screamed before they died, pathetic in their last moments. It made Leta smiled at their cowardice.

Throughout this scene Morgana had sat completely still, staring at Leta with both eyes, though only seeing through one. She did not look remotely afraid of the monster Leta had become.

"You are so lost..." she whispered sorrowfully.

Leta laughed sadistically. "Not lost. Found." And she snapped Morgana's neck like it were a dried twig, letting her shrivelled old body slump to the floor.

Leta turned to the cowering Myra, who was clutching her broken arm to her chest like it were a baby, her bright green eyes trained on Leta.

Leta took one stride forward, crouching down in front of her and sighing. "Myra, you have two choices here. One: you can die right here and right now by my hand. Two: you can run as far and as fast as you can in the hopes of finding a new home many miles away from here. And I will not give chase. You will be free." She reached out a hand and trailed her delicate fingertip over Myra's cheek, touching a lock of her silken hair. Black veins flashed across her cheeks in her hunger. Then she suddenly stood and pointed to the doorway. "Go. Run and never look back."

And Myra ran.

That was the last time Leta saw the girl with the bright green eyes, but it was not the last time she met someone like her.

All around her Leta could hear the sounds of the villagers, awakened by the terrified yells of her victims. They were converging on the council hut and Leta could hear each of their hearts pumping the blood through their veins, ready to be drank.

Smiling, Leta picked up one of the lanterns and threw it onto the dried hay that lines the floor, stepping outside before she could get burned alive. The hut was up in flames within seconds.

There was a collective gasp from all of the people-the werewolves-surrounding the hut. They all looked tired as they had just gotten out of bed. All of them were armed with some weapon or another. Even the women were carrying knives. It was like all the wolves had some telepathic connection Leta didn't know about.

Leta smirked and raised her arms. "Come on, just try and touch me," she called boldly, her eyes flashing.

And they charged, running at her with cries of war, weapons raised above their heads. There could only have been thirty of them, even including ten children, the youngest only seven, yet still brandishing a sword, his face twisted as he yelled.

As the first man reached her, Leta punched a hole in his stomach, her anger, her rage, her fury, fuelling her, making her bloodthirsty. More bloodthirsty. The man couched blood and then dropped to the floor. All around her Leta could smell sweat and fear and courage and blood.

As she slaughtered her merciless way through the werewolf pack that was supposed to be her family, Leta slowly started to lose her motivation, beginning to feel lost. With each kill her chest would get a strange ache. And finally, when everyone around her was dead, or dying, bleeding out on the earthy ground, the fire had spread to the other huts, setting the entire village ablaze. Luckily none of the trees caught alight.

Leta stared around at her handy work, her eyes glazing over.

It felt like someone had come along and stabbed her in the heart, broken every bone in her body, and destroyed her very soul. The realisation of what she had just done hit Leta, sending her to her knees. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't see, and she couldn't move. All she could do was scream, scream until her throat was raw. Scream until she was unable to scream anymore. Scream from the horror she had caused.

Her screams echoed back to Mystic Falls, the wailing forest nymph, slowly dying inside...

 _I am a monster... I do not deserve the life that was given to me..._


	24. Chapter 23

It was a long time before Leta moved from her position on the floor, a long time before she stretched her legs and pushed herself to her feet. Her eyes were glazed over, her feet stumbling through the bodies.

The thought dimly occurred to her that no one had seemed to notice the village burn. Not one person had seen the flames or smelt the smoke. Perhaps the wind had been on her side that night, directing the scent away from Mystic Falls. A small part of Leta wished it hadn't.

As she forced her legs to work, knowing the sun would be up soon, knowing she had to hide herself or get burned, Leta's mind was blank. Her face was empty, but inside she was still screaming... yet, she felt hollow.

That day as the sun rose, Leta felt the cold for the first time since she had become the monster she now called herself. It bit into her skin, making her shiver and cry and wish she were dead for an entirely different reason than before.

Leta's didn't think that day, she didn't move, she just huddled in the place she and Nik had once called their play house. The Fairy Hollow. All the happy times seemed so long ago now, like a dream. And everything had suddenly turned into a nightmare.

Rebekah Mikaelson opened the front door of her home, fully intending to go outside and fetch the water like she did every day before her family awoke, but instead she received a face full of sunlight. And her skin burned with such suddenness that she gave a cry and jumped backwards into the shade of the house.

Last night her parents had killed her and her siblings and then Mikael Mikaelson had killed himself. Only they had all awoken, alive and well, forced to drink a dead girls blood, and her parents had explained their actions...

 _Rebekah sat huddled tightly in the corner of their home, Niklaus's arms around her, comforting and warm. He was murmuring reassurances in her ear, stroking her hair in an effort to stop her sobs._

 _"It will be all right, Rebekah," he whispered, his dark blue eyes roaming the hut, occasionally flicking back to Mikael, who was sat with Finn, deep in conversation Niklaus couldn't listen to._

 _Kol sat next to them, his eyes dark and murderous. In his heart he was not worrying about himself anymore. He was truly worried about Leta, but that worry was only building up the confusion and the anger at his parents actions. How could they have done this to their own children?_

 _Finally, Esther returned from outside, her eyes serious and sad. She closed the door behind her and sat down on a small, three legged stool and motioning for everyone to come and sit in front of her. Only Mikael and Finn complied, Mikael sitting beside Esther and Finn sitting before her._

 _Esther's eyes turned to her other children; Elijah, sitting alone, then Nik and Rebekah and Kol. "Please. I have much to explain to you and I wish for you all to know every fact before you decide if you hate me or not." Her voice was soft and persuasive, and it worked like a dream._

 _Kol was the first to move, sitting untrustingly beside Finn. Then Elijah, who looked over at his two frightened siblings and held out one hand._

 _"Come, Rebekah, Niklaus," he said. His voice was gentle, but it carried a level of authority, like a signal that he was their older brother and what he said was to be trusted._

 _And Nik and Rebekah slowly joined the half circle around their parents._

 _Esther smiled and folded her hands in her lap. "We did what we did to you because we wished to be together forever, not having to worry about dying. The spell I cast, the spell of immortality, has given us the power to fight the werewolves, the strength and the speed to defend ourselves against anything. You must understand that we did this to protect you from the very creatures that killed your brother."_

 _Elijah looked at her with almost a stern reverence, but it was underlined by his mistrust. "You say you did this to protect us and yet why did you not simply tell us about this? We would surely have agreed and trusted you. So why did you not trust us?" His eyes narrowed slightly and the others nodded in agreement._

 _Esther was quick to answer, her words almost too smooth, but that was just her way. "We wanted to act fast, incase the wolves changed their minds. If we had told you there would have been questions and by then it could have been to late."_

 _After many more questions as well as an outburst from Kol, Esther and Mikael had convinced their children and everything almost returned to normal. They fell asleep all through the night, though Niklaus had awoken thinking he heard screams coming from far far away..._

Rebekah stared at her skin, healing itself before her very eyes. Esther had told her about this, but she had mentioned nothing of the sunlight burning. Tentatively she reached out a hand and instantly snatched it back as her skin sizzled.

"Mother!" she called desperately. "Mother the sunlight! It should not burn me, should it?"

As night fell again, Leta picked herself up and crawled out into the moonlight, slowly placing one hand in front of the other. She was shaking, staring at the blood that coated her fingers. The only thought in her mind was that she had to clean herself up, make herself look respectable. If she did no one would ever know what she was. If she did, she would be able to look at her reflection in the river and think that on the outside at least she wasn't a monster. Not in appearance anyway.

Leta wandered almost aimlessly through the trees, heading towards Mystic Falls. Snow had started to fall, blanketing the world in a soft white fluff, cold and frozen. Leta's breath misted before her like a dragons breath. She felt warm again, a normal temperature, but Leta didn't bother questioning it as a single tear froze on her cheek. There was something so wrong with Leta that she had given up with her questions.

When she reached the edge of the village, the place she had dropped her satchel two nights ago. It still lay there, frost covering it as well as a thin layer of snow. Leta knelt and brushed the snow off of her pack, picking it up and slinging it over her shoulders. And then she straightened up and her eyes travelled down to the village below her.

The firelight twinkled from behind the shuttered windows, making the whole place look so picturesque, like in a children's tale. Leta could feel christmas in the air, it was the feeling of freedom, like anything could happen. And it magically made her spirit lift, if only just a fraction. A shadow of a smile crept across her lips and she wondered what her friends were doing right now.

If anyone had looked up at Leta, they would have seen a picture from a horror story. She was covered in blood and dirt, her hair matted and her shirt almost torn to shreds. She looked like the monster parents told their children about at night. In some ways she was...

Leta turned her back on the village and walked away into the forest, heading for the river. She still felt evil, the blood somehow branding her as a monster. And the river was a way to wash it off.

Scrubbing the blood from her skin and clothes took away some of the guilt, like letting it flow down the stream was some how homage to the pack she had killed, not that there was anyone around to see it. Once she was dressed in fresh clothes and her hair was somehow miraculously dried, Leta sat beside the river, listening to its merry, gushing waters. And she sang softly to herself.

"Laugh, Kookaburra, laugh... Kookaburra, gay your life must be..."

She sat there until she heard the birds beginning to chirp, and then she got up and made her way back to the hollow.

Somehow she had locked all her grief behind a door at the very back of her mind. Once she had figured things out she would open that door and let it all rush back in, but for now she couldn't stand to be confronted by what she felt. It was all far too much for her.

Weeks passed, weeks in which Leta thought constantly, her dreams plagued with nightmares that kept her awake long into the day. Her sleeping pattern changed and she became a creature of the night. Sometimes her instincts would overpower her, making her wish for the taste of human blood again, but every time this happened she would hunt down a wild deer or a squirrel and drink from them instead. She did not care much to cook them.

She thought about Henrik and she thought about Kol's words to her on the very night everything had turned to hell. She couldn't seem to stop thinking about them. She thought about her mother, how she would react when-if-she learned what Leta had done.

But the thing she worried about most of all was how she could live like this forever. She hated the idea. She missed Niklaus and Elijah and Rebekah and Kol. She even missed having her fights with Mikael. She would have given anything to stand up to him. Anything.

More days passed and Leta found she would talk to herself as if she were two people. She counted the days as well, not wanting to lose time.

And on the last day of the third week, Esther Mikaelson visited her with a gift...


	25. Chapter 24

_One week earlier at the Mikaelson's..._

"How long does it take to cook up a simple spell?" Kol demanded for the thousandth time in the past two weeks. He was standing over Esther as she worked, diligently ignoring her offsprings bad temper. She had been doing her best to come up with a spell to protect her family from the suns now burning rays since the day Rebekah had discovered the awful truth. But Esther had come no closer to a solution, and Kol's constant irritating remarks, questions, and other unhelpful sentences were only proving a hinderance. Perhaps if he had retained his magic when he was killed he might have been quite useful to Esther, but as he was, he only made her job harder still. And his ego was making the house stuffy.

Esther did not look up at him as she replied. "Kol, for the love of all that is holy will you please find another past time?" she snapped.

Kol snorted, folding his arms. "It's not that I do not love being a superhuman, but how can I love it if I am to be entombed in this hovel for the rest of eternity!" he snarled, his eyes a burning black that only Kol possessed.

Esther lost her patience, which was saying something, because she was one of the most calm and collected people in the village. She jumped to her feet and turned on Kol. "If you ever wish to be out in the sunlight again, Kol, you will keep your mouth shut and let me work on my spell."

Kol looked like he were about to retaliate, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. It was Elijah, looking tired and extremely annoyed, but collected and businesslike nonetheless.

"Enough, brother." He said it gently but firmly, the way he always talked when he knew he were right. And at his words, Kol backed down and slumped dejectedly against the wall next to Rebekah, who laid her head on his shoulder. It was as if his will had suddenly been sucked from him.

Esther sighed in relief. "Good, I promise the spell will not be more than another week at the most. Please, be patient." Her eyes were anxious as she looked upon four of her children, who all sat together, somehow brought closer by this experience, though how long that would last remained to be seen.

Esther lived up to her promise, within a week she had manufactured five rings, which she cast a powerful spell on to shield her children from being burned. She also made a sixth, though she kept this particular one a secret, not wishing her children to know of its existence. Not yet anyway.

It was two nights until the next full moon when she finally presented them with the rings, promising they would be safe from the daylight now as long as they wore them. And each of them were thrilled at finally being able to leave their home. But Esther was solum, wondering if she was making the right choice. What if something terrible were to happen when she presented the last ring to the forest nymph? What if Leta were no longer around? Maybe she had fled away to the mountains or found a way to sail to distant shores? A part of Esther hoped that was the case.

Rebekah was the first to leave the house, walking bravely through the village, the hand wearing the ring held out in front of her. But the people whispered and stared, giving her scared looks, untrusting. They hurried inside their homes as she passed, hastily pushing their children-children Bekah had known all her life-out of her sight. Each time she smiled she was met with no waves or calls of 'good morning', only silence. Why were they so afraid of her?

Of course Rebekah didn't need anyone to answer that question for her; she knew exactly why. It was because of the spell. Esther had obviously not bothered to keep what she had done to her children a secret. Rebekah found herself resenting that.

Back in her home, Esther sat alone, her family enjoying their new found freedom elsewhere. When she was sure they would not find her, Esther laid a map of the surrounding forest out on the floor, using the final drop she had saved of Leta's blood and pouring it in the very centre. Then she began to chant, and slowly the blood started to move. Images flashed in Esther's minds eye and she saw blonde hair, tired eyes, and a hollow beneath the roots of a great tree.

Without further hesitation, she packed away her things and slipped quietly into the forest, the sixth rings in the pocket of her apron...

Leta raised her eyes from the where she was tracing patterns in the earth so she could look at Esther. Esther was crouching in the opening between the roots, one hand holding onto the thickest one to keep herself upright. Her startlingly blue eyes watched Leta for a moment as Leta comprehended what she was seeing.

"Hello, Leta," Esther said almost resignedly, her eyes flickering away from her to look down at Leta's hands.

Blood rushed to Leta's cheeks and she moved faster than light, reaching out to strangle Esther, but pain exploded in her head. Esther had raised one hand, rubbing her forefinger and thumb together and muttering words Leta didn't understand.

She gave a gasp of pain and fell back, clutching her head. It felt like someone was mashing her brain like it were nothing more than a potato. And with each mash it only got worse, so why wasn't she dying? The answer was again quite obvious, but Leta couldn't have wished for death more than she did in that moment as she bit down on her lip in order not to scream.

"You will not harm me, you cannot harm me," Esther said, her eyes like steel as she moved so she was kneeling in the 'doorway' of the hollow. "If you in any way try to touch me, Leta Mitchell, I will make sure that you never see daylight again."

Tears had begun to stream down Leta's face. "Stop it!" she shrieked desperately. "I won't try anything!"

Esther sighed and dropped her hand. The pain subsided and Leta pushed herself into a sitting position, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"Right," Esther began, reaching into her pocket and retrieving the sixth ring. "This is a daylight ring. It will protect you from the sun. You will be able to be outside in the day once again."

Leta's hand flashed out, palm up, expectantly. Her eyes were murderous.

Esther smiled and gave a small laugh. "It comes with a price, I'm afraid; if you try and kill me then you will lose its protection. It is something I added to ensure my safety."

"I do not care!" Leta cried suddenly, one fist thudding into the ground so hard the leaves of the tree shook. "I cannot live like this! Give me the ring, Esther!"

Esther dropped the ring into her palm and Leta stared at it cautiously, like she expected it to do something.

It was made out of a dull metal, maybe the metal of a sword, and a single black stone was inlaid in the centre. There was nothing remarkable about it, in fact. It was strangely disappointing too Leta, for some reason.

"Put it on, it won't hurt you."

The ring didn't make her feel different or special. It just felt like a ring. Leta supposed that she had been expecting some magical lights or a transformation of some kind. But nothing at all happened. It looked unsatisfyingly boring on her ring finger, like it were a simple trinket that Nik might have given her.

She lowered her hand and pursed her lips, raising an eyebrow at Esther. "Is that it? No, apologies for making me into a bloody _monster_!" She shouted the last word, her anger bubbling to the surface again.

Esther smiled and folded her hands, calm and perfectly at ease. "You came to me asking for a way out of your predicament, you never specified how. I simply took your request, granted it, and used it to my own advantage at the same time. Think of it as killing two birds with one stone; by turning you into what you are now, I was also able to use your blood to change my children. Now they are protected from the wolves that so savagely murdered my dear Henrik."

Shock, anger, confusion, horror. These emotions all flitted across her face in the seconds after Esther gave her this little speech. Questions that she couldn't bring herself to ask burst into her mind, making her only more confused, unable to choose what she should ask first.

Had Esther known of the monstrous effects of the spell?

What on earth had she been thinking if she did?

She had made her children into whatever Leta was?

But the only thing Leta managed to say was, "What?"

"You heard me," Esther answered smoothly, standing up and backing away from the gap between the roots.

Leta didn't hesitate; she crawled out and stood up, the sunlight hurting her eyes, but it did not distract her from Esther's words.

"You made them into what I am?" she demanded, taking a step forwards.

"Yes."

Leta reached out and slapped Esther across the face. "You made my best friends into monsters, you witch!" she screamed. "You turned them into bloodsucking beasts! Did you not even research this god damned spell before you performed it! Nature finds its course, Esther! You are a witch and you should know that!"

Esther looked stunned, one hand to her stinging cheek, her eyes wide and baffled. "What do you mean?" she whispered.

Leta gave an angry laugh, shaking a finger at her and backing away. "Oh no. You try being in the dark for a little while. I am going to see my friends." And she turned around and started running.


	26. Chapter 25

Leta rushed into the village, having Esther left in the forest. Her head turned from side to side, searching for her friends, for Niklaus. But she saw no one, it was as if Mystic Falls had suddenly been deserted. A horrible thought occurred to Leta, but there was no blood, no screams, no dead bodies, so surely the villagers were all still alive.

"Nik?" she shouted, no longer afraid of hurting him or anyone she cared about. If they were like her then Esther was the one who had done the damage, Leta could not add to that in any way.

"Niklaus?" she yelled, frantically turning in a circle, her feet instinctively carrying her through the village and towards the white oak tree.

There was a gentle crunching sound, soft footfalls in the thin layer of snow. "Leta?" a quivering voice asked, fragile and broken.

Leta spun round on her heel and saw Niklaus stepping out from behind the white oak tree. He looked ill and tired, his eyes nothing close to the happiness she could feel in hers. His hair looked straggly, like it were in good need of a wash and maybe a brush. But all Leta could do was smiled. She zipped forwards and flung her arms around him, let out a strangled sob as she berried her head in his shoulder. Niklaus wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to him like she might disappear if he let go.

"I am so so sorry..." he whispered. "I am sorry for all of this, Leta. If I had not gone to see the wolves transform you would not have been forced to become one of them. It is all my fault."

Leta drew back, looking up at him in puzzlement. She laughed and wiped her eyes. "I am no werewolf, though I wish I were. Did Esther not tell you what she did for me?" she asked.

Nik frowned down at her, taking her all in, thinking hard. It came to him suddenly, like a fire flaring to life in the dark, and he took a shocked step away from her. "She made you like she made us," he breathed, his eyes travelling over her face. He looked as though he might cry.

Leta managed another smile, though this one felt forced. "Yes. She did."

"What? How?" he gasped. "Why would she do this to you?"

Leta smiled again and stepped forward, taking both his hands in hers and squeezing them. "I came to her asking for a way out of becoming a werewolf. And she did, but I fear it went horribly wrong."

"How?"

Leta didn't feel quite ready to tell him about everything that had taken place yet, so she cast her eyes down and then looked back up, beaming as convincingly as she could. "It does not matter. What matters is that everything will go back to normal." _No one will know what I did. Not even Niklaus. No one will know I am a monster. I will keep myself clean and I will be accepted. But as for my friends, I do not know how I can help them._

Niklaus opened his mouth to ask another question, but before he could speak, someone else had whisked Leta into their arms, turning her so her face was pressed into their chest. He smelled like pine trees and earth. His arms were strong around her, comforting. Elijah held her at arms length, giving a low chuckle.

"Leta. I thought I would never see you again," he told her, his eyes sparkling. A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

"Elijah!" Leta cried, throwing her arms around him. Elijah pulled away and kissed her on the forehead.

"You look..." He looked at her and sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Terrible. I'm sorry, but where have you been?"

Leta stepped away so she could see the two brothers, her family. Not having any brothers or sisters, Leta had always considered the Mikaelson's as family, with the obvious exception of Mikael and possibly Kol, though by no means for the same reason.

"Thank you, Elijah, I feel so much better now. You really know how to charm a lady, don't you?" Elijah and she both laughed before she continued. "I... I have been living in the forest... Since your mother cast the spell on me... I am like you now."

Elijah frowned and his eyes darkened. "What?"

"Oh, brother, come now, you know exactly what she said. Don't get angry, you should be celebrating. She's one of us, now we cannot lose her."

Leta turned around to look at the young man who had spoken. The one with the dark hair, the dark eyes, and the cocky smile. His teeth flashed as he stepped closer, so she had to tilt her head upwards to meet his eyes. He unfolded his arms.

Kol smirked at her, his almost black eyes shining. "Hello, darling," he murmured.

Leta rolled her eyes. "Kol," she started, sounding resigned. "Shut up." And she hugged him closely to her. She could hear his heart thumping in his chest like a tiny drum, the pace picking up as he put his arms round her waist.

Niklaus and Elijah shared a satisfied look, both trying to conceal smiles. And as Rebekah and Finn joined the group, they grinned.

And they were all thinking the same thing...

 _Just be together._

Later that night, they were all sitting together at the Mikaelson's. Esther was serving the dinner she had cooked, her face placid in her content. She hadn't asked Leta about what she had meant when she had told Esther she had made her into a monster. Leta was glad of this.

It almost felt like Leta was part of one happy family, with them all sitting on the floor, bowls of soup in their laps and freshly sliced breath on their knees. She was seated next to Niklaus and Rebekah. Mikael sat across the room from everyone, appearing to enjoy his own company more than others. Leta couldn't say she blamed him when she were sure that there was not one person in that room that truly loved him. Maybe Esther was an exception to that, but Leta found it hard to believe. Kol and Finn and Elijah at facing Leta, all eating hungrily, like they were starving.

Know what she knew, Leta was sure she knew the reason, but she couldn't bring herself to burden them with such knowledge just yet. She would wait for the morning, and then maybe she would visit her mother. Leta felt she deserved to know what her daughter was, what she had done. Maybe then she would regret hiding things from Leta all her life.

She found it funny that her friends accepted their being immortal so easily, after all, she had not taken it as a gift.

The past few weeks felt like they had been a miserable eternity, stretching out into a string of horrible events that had culminated it this somehow unsettling dinner. It felt wrong to sit there and act normal, as if no one had died or been murdered, as if no one had become immortal, as if this was just another day in their lives. It wasn't, so why were they treating it like it was. They were talking and laughing and it was all too much for her. She hated it.

"Leta, are you alright?" Niklaus asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. He was looking at her in concern, and she watched as his eyes travelled down to her right hand. She followed his gaze and saw she had crushed the piece of bread into a shapeless mass.

"Oh." She slowly opened her fist and wiped the crumbs on her trouser leg. "I'm fine..." she mumbled. "Just thinking, Nik."

Niklaus didn't look like he believed her, but he let it go and went back to his food. Better to ask her about it later than provoke her, he reasoned.

When the meal was over and Esther had stacked the dirty wooden bowls in a corner, she turned to her family and Leta.

"I have something to tell you all and I would appreciate it if you let me finish without any questions." Her ice blue eyes stared almost blankly at each of them in turn, lingering on Leta just a second longer than the others. "When I cast the immortal spell on you all, there was a price, just one thing that can kill you. Now, of course we know that should someone get a hold of this then they would most likely want to kill us. But not if we destroy it first."

Leta raised her hand. "Please stop playing the bloody pronoun game and just tell us what _it_ is," she said in a bored voice, rolling her eyes. It felt good to roll her eyes again.

Esther's mouth tightened at the corners. "We need to burn the white oak tree to the ground."

Leta shrugged, suddenly not caring at all. She stood up. "Alright, let's burn down a tree."

The darkness was lit by the roaring flames as they leaped higher and higher into the sky, sparks flaring. They looked like tiny orange stars to Leta, who was smiling just a little as she watched the white oak tree burn to the ground.

Several of the village folk had come outside, though none but the witch Ayana had dared approach them and ask what they were doing. Ayana had not been happy, but there had been nothing she could do about it so she had retreated to the safety of her home. The people who were still out, were busily working, throwing hasty glances at the immortals.

The full moon hadn't quite risen yet.

Leta stood beside Kol, who appeared to be enjoying the sight of the burning tree. They were alone for the first time since the night Henrik had died. It was nice, Leta decided, slipping her hand into his. He looked at her and his eyes softened.

Elijah and Niklaus and Mikael had gone to hunt, and Esther was inside the house. Leta wasn't sure where Rebekah had got to, she had been standing near her a minute ago.

In that moment, everything seemed so perfect, but, as always when it came to Leta, that perfect moment was shattered by a scream.

It was the worst deja vu she had ever experienced as Leta once again ran towards the noise of someone dying. Only this time when she reached the one making it, she found a sight she should have anticipated.

In the shadows behind a hut, Rebekah knelt, her hands covered in blood. And as she looked up at them, Leta saw fangs disappearing and transforming into regular teeth and black veins vanishing into the fair skin of her cheeks.

"I did not mean to," Rebekah sobbed. "I was just so hungry."

Leta would have comforted her then, but yet another surprise intervened.

A sharp cracking of bone sounded, and she dropped to the floor as her spin arched and broke, reforming only to break in a different place. It was worse than hitting the bottom of the ravine as she felt herself begin to transform into a werewolf.


	27. Chapter 26

The pain was worse than she had imagined it could be. Each bone was slowly snapping, splintering, and reforming. It was like being burned from the inside out, like a million tiny daggers were slicing at her fair skin. Through her agony, through her tears, Leta could only manage to say one sentence as she screamed. She screamed until her throats was ripped raw, ignoring the worried voice of Kol, who kept trying to help her. He sounded more than worried, he was panicking. And that, for Kol, was a real rarity.

Off to the side, Rebekah cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks as she covered her mouth with both hands. She backed away, forgetting what she had done just minutes before.

Everything melded together before Leta's eyes, making it impossible to truly make out her surroundings, though she knew them well from memory.

Kol tried to put a hand on her shoulder, to help her in some way, but there was nothing he could do. It was too late, and Esther had failed to deliver on her side of the bargain. Leta was transforming into a werewolf before his very eyes.

"Get away from me!" Leta screeched, lashing out and throwing Kol into the wall of the house. There was a crunching sound as the wood cracked and the side of the house was knocked down, but Leta was in too much pain to really notice. She was in too much pain to care who's home she had just destroyed.

Leta curled into a ball, whimpering in pain. Another bone broke and she arced her back, rolling over. A scream of pure agony resonated, bouncing off the tightly packed together tree trunks and coming back to her ears, though she paid no heed to it. Screaming did nothing to relieve the pain. It was supposed to, but it didn't.

Leta felt one leg break and twist backwards on itself, and she shrieked, rolling onto her front.

"Esther!" she yelled, her voice hoarse. "Esther you promised! You promised this would not happen!"

But Esther did not come running, she did not come to the rescue. Leta wasn't even sure she knew of the chaos she had caused. Esther was a foolish girl playing with a fire she could never hope to control. Leta knew that now, and she also knew she should never have trusted her. Esther was no different from Mikael in her own way. She had used Leta, and Leta knew she was going to be paying the price for trusting Esther for the rest of her existence.

In an unexpected moment the pain lapsed, and Leta was able to drag herself pathetically to her feet, clutching at her side, where she had just felt a bone begin to shatter.

She had to get far away from the town, far away from her friends. She would hurt them otherwise, whether they were immortal or not. She couldn't take the risk that something would happen to them.

Kol was shouting at her, begging her to let him help, but she didn't listen, she couldn't concentrate. She had to get away. She had to run away again, if only for a night.

As fast as she could, she ran away, feeling another bone snap in her arm. Far away through the trees until she reached the Wolf Cliff, where she collapsed onto her side, her breaths heavy, burning her chest.

She writhed there in the worst torture imaginable, until suddenly the noise cut out and a snow white wolf took her place, its blue grey eyes gazing intently across to the other side of the cliff. Its breath misted in the cold winter air and it turned around and galloped away into the night, its white fur visible even in the inky blackness. It was an elegant creature, it's eyes never resting in one place to long. It raced through the forest, the wind brushing its silky soft fur. No one would see Leta in her wolf form that night, but they would see someone else... someone they never even thought of...

Blood dripped from Niklaus' lips as he threw the body of the girl he had just killed down on the forest floor. For a moment he stood there, unable to believe what he had done. Then he stumbled backwards a step, looking at his hands.

He had found the girl wandering alone in the wilderness where the men of the village often liked to hunt. She was one of the girls from the village, someone he had known all his life, an acquaintance, but still someone he had known. Her name was Rose. He had just killed someone-an innocent girl. He had killed Rose.

As he moved back again, his right leg broke, twisting and snapping only to reform. Niklaus dropped to his knees with a bellow, both hands digging into the dirt as his backbone cracked sharply. His screaming could be heard all the way through the village.

"Brother!" It was Elijah's voice, panic infused with something else. "Brother!" he shouted again, this time sounding closer. But his voice was eclipsed by another agonised cry from Nik as his back arched in pain.

From around on of the bushes rushed Elijah and Mikael, as Niklaus let out yet another scream, turning his head upwards to look at them.

"What is happening to me?" he cried, tears sparkling in his eyes. Another bone snapped. Another yell of pain.

Elijah attempted to help him, running forward. Mikael was there, yanking him back and putting one arm around him to make sure he couldn't move. He forced Elijah to step away from Niklaus, staring down at the writhing young man before him.

"He is an abomination!" he spat, glaring at Niklaus. "Do not go near him, Elijah."

Nik gave a howl of such utter agony that Elijah flinched, wishing desperately to help his brother. His pained eyes flickered to his father's face. "Please, Father. He is my brother."

Mikael turned on him in a sudden fit of rage. "No!" he shouted, punching Elijah hard in the face. "He is no son of mine and therefore he is not your brother! Do you understand me, Elijah?" His eyes were wild, deadly and murderous.

Elijah clutched his broken nose, feeling the warm blood flowing over his mouth and down his chin. His eyes watered as he tried not to let Mikael know how much the hit had hurt him.

" _Do you?_ " Mikael screamed, making a threatening advance towards Elijah.

Elijah put his nose back into place with a crunching noise and wiped away the blood, standing up tall and meeting his father's eyes. He set his jaw defiantly. "I. Will. Not. Abandon my brother. Not now, not ever. I have lived by Always and Forever all my life, and I have no intention of breaking my promise to him. I will help him through this and you will not stand in my way. Is that understood?" Elijah's eyes flashed, and in that moment you could see who he would become in later years. He stood tall and proud; the noble stag, his face set in an unreadable stone mask.

Mikael chuckled and smirked. "Very well then, _boy,_ " he said, a sick amusement in his tone. He stood aside so Elijah could see the place Niklaus had been. He was gone. "But you will have to find him first. I am going home to speak with your mother."

And before Elijah could say anything, Mikael had strode off into the night, his heavy boots crunching on the earthy ground. Elijah was left alone, feel both jubilant at his seeming triumph over Mikael, and deflated that Niklaus had disappeared. But he knelt down, peering closely at the ground, tracing his fingers through the dirt. There was a single set of paw prints leading straight ahead.

"Where are you headed, brother?" he murmured to himself.

Deep in the centre of the woods, two wolves met. One was a pure snowy white, the other as brown as the trunks of the trees themselves. For a moment the wolves stopped, gazing at each other intently, as if they somehow had met before. Then the white one stepped forwards and touched its nose to the other's. Then they both turned and headed in opposite directions. The one as brown as the earth ran towards Mystic Falls, confusion and rage fuelling its bloodthirsty heart.

The white one headed back towards the Wolf Cliff, know its mission was not to destroy and mutilate, not if it didn't have to. The snowy she-wolf raced down her own path, keeping her blue grey eyes fixed up ahead.

Even in wolf form Leta Mitchell still retained humanity on some strange subconscious level. This speared her to run faster, taking her to a place she knew she could not hurt anyone. Back to the Wolf Cliff.

If she had been human, Leta would have rolled her eyes at the irony of her situation; that she was running towards the place she had so desperately been running from all her life. But as it were, she only felt a dim sense of something, something she would not remember when she woke in the morning.

Niklaus' heart pounded, adrenaline pumping through his wolf veins. An uncontrollable rage had settled over him, the rage only a werewolf can posses. There would be bloodshed tonight, even if he grew to regret it in the morning. For sometimes you cannot control what you are doing.

So both the wolves ran away from each other, one pure white, the other darker and more broken than Leta could ever be. Each wolf had its own mission that night, and each heart beat felt like someone was trying to claw their way out of their chests, but they ignore it.

Leta reached the Wolf Cliff and lay down there, staring out at the place she had slaughtered her pack just a few weeks ago.

But when Niklaus came to the village, god have mercy on the first human he saw.


End file.
